(or Holding Anxiety's Hand Through a Carnival)
If my Anxiety was a person, it would be my boyfriend. We would be dating for about three years now and we are really comfortable with each other. Or he is comfortable with me. Just this year I opened up to a few close friends about our relationship and I don't think they believe me. Don't believe such a smiley person could be dating a person who only breaks me down.
When on a date with my Anxiety at a local carnival, he holds my hand. Walks me past all of my favorite rides and games. He says they are making him nervous so he makes me nervous. We've been at this fairground for an hour now and it feels like people's eyes are watching us. Judging the way I walk, the way I hold his hand, my shaking knees. Maybe they're just looking past me, right? To another person they call a friend or lover. Maybe they are looking at my Anxiety. The way he keeps squeezing my hand or shoulder. The way he flinches when he meets someone's eye. How he sometimes shoves his hands into his pockets when I tell him he's hurting my hand.
"We probably shouldn't have come here today." He tells me we should leave. I don't know how to feel because I thought we were having fun. I thought today would be different. That maybe going outside wouldn't be as bad. It wasn't always like this. Before I met Anxiety I had so many friends. We hung out all the time. I was able to meet people and be comfortable. But ever since I met Anxiety he has taken my skin and wore it. Clipped my wings and pulled my voice out of my throat and buried it so far under ground that even dead bodies won't be able to here me screaming.
As we walk out of the entrance gate, I contemplate breaking up with him. He doesn't make me feel good about myself and he is always making me worried. I have lost so much of myself to my disorder that most people don't recognise me anymore. I wonder what my life would be like with out him. A life where I can go out and find myself. Be the person I have dreamt of being. A life where my heart and my brain don't fight against each other and hurt the body they were meant to protect, like divorcing parents.
But,
Of course this thought leaves just as it arrived. Quick and panicky. As much as I want to leave him, I don't know what my life would be without him.
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Fragmentation
PoetryFragmentation// the process or state of breaking or being broken into small or separate parts. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× It's hard for me to complete my poems. And I finally decided to share some of my poetry with strangers. These...
