The Introvert Diaries

The insecurities are eating me alive.

Consuming me whole and taking me for a ride.

They make me paranoid and care what strangers think.

They make the voices scream louder,

making my ears feel like they're going to bleed.

Poking and prodding and tearing me to shreds.

Taking me apart thread by thread.

I hide behind the wall I build up brick by brick,

but somehow my insecurities always worm their way in.

They're like tiny demons playing tricks on me.

Messing with my head always lurking in the darkness under my bed.

My insecurities are the little voices chirping in my ears.

Telling me I'm worthless,

always asking why I'm even here.

Always worrying if I look pretty,

or if my clothes look alright.

Always thinking everyone is staring.

Always feeling as if there's something permanently stuck on my face.

Obsessively wiping away invisible imperfections.

Constantly rubbing and scratching to feel clean.

Thoughts swirl around in my head.

The perfect image of uncertainty and fear is all I become.

Crashing like waves taking me down,

drowning me out so I can't make a sound.

Like duct tape on my mouth,

it silences me for the fear of people noticing.

Falling into a black hole – like fate,

I slowly begin to disappear and fade away until I am nothing.