Explaining My Anxiety

Anxiety...A simple seven letter word thatmight not mean much to you.but for me, it's this chain and brick,pulling me just deep enough under thewater that only my hands break the surface.Letting me know that sweet breath of airis just out of reach.From my sweaty palms,to the never-ending butterflies in my stomachthat slowly fly up to my throatmaking it hard to breathe and even speak.

Anxiety...Is not a phaseor something that you couldjust wave a magic wand and make go away.No, Anxiety is the thingthat makes me feel like not going outside.or the reason I don't eat in front of people.It's the voices in my head screaming at me every secondof every moment, of every day.Telling me to change my shirt, or leave my hair down.It's the quiver in my voicethat sometimes leaves me a stuttering mess.

Anxiety is not a thing I use toseek attention; no, it's the thingthat makes me not want it.and when I've finally had enough...When my shaking hands and the butterflieshave finally gotten to my throat,Making my body convulse in pain and anguish.I know... that I have lost this fight.

The fight for air,for tranquility,the fight for normality...and while I lay there on the bathroom floor,Eyes bloodshot,and flooded with the salty sea.Fist clutched in a deathly grip.Trying to hold onto the little breathI have left...

I wave my white flag for surrender.Letting my eyes flutter likeThose butterflies I despise so much.and I fall under the sweet release...of deep comatose.