#anxiety poem

[biandwantstodiexx]

When a headache turns to a brain bleed,

When cancer is all you see down your news feed,

When a vein in your leg looks a little too big

Your knees get weak, they could snap like a twig

When a pain in your chest is a heart attack

When you go up a dress size and calculate your fat

When your breathing becomes shallow and you hear your heartbeat

When your palms get sweaty and you feel the heat,

When swallowing hurts it’s not a cold

It’s some disease that will make your body fold.

How can one live in a world where illnesses are everywhere

In the ground, the sky, it’s in the air

How I wish to tell you that a headache is just a headache,

That’s just information my heart doesn’t take,

My brain is complicated, different from others

It fills me with thoughts and feelings I can’t discover.

So in my brain, a headache turns to a brain bleed

A chest pain is a heartattack

A lump is cancer

And a cold is never just a cold.

How I would love to tell you why I feel this way. However I just don’t seem to know. You see my brain and body are wired this way, and it makes me feel low. I would love to sit and tell you stories about myself, but my mind can only fixate on what terrible disease I may encounter

I would love nothing more than to try new foods, but I’m so afraid of being poorly that I never do, I would adore to take my life less seriously. But I’m afraid it’s just because im built differently…

[thisismynamenowxpoetry]

They say the monsters hide under your bed,

But under my bed

There's only a sliver of space

Which makes sense

Really,

It has to be small enough

To get inside my brain

And undo the wiring

That everyone has

My monsters started under my bed

But at night

They crawl through to my skull

And make a home for themselves there

I'm scared to befriend them

Because what if they're right?

What if it is ending

And the spot on my chest means nothing?

They must be atoms

Playing games with me

For their own sense of enjoyment

I tame them,

Sometimes,

Sometimes we go out for a walk

And stare at that abandoned building

But sometimes

I just want to rip my brain out.

[miss-saytr]

Life is rough. I sit in my tight little room and cry because I compare myself to others. I know who’s better than me and who deserves more than I do.

I know they don’t like me. Well, to be fair, it’s the anxiety talking, but I said something that was out of touch and got confronted on it, and I took it well, but I believe you let in linger in yourself because you haven’t reached out to me since. For that I apologize.

I’ve been told not to compare myself to others by my friends. However I’ve been told to compare myself to others by older adults because life is unfortunately a competition for some reason. So I sit and trust no one that is Gen X (except Tommy, who I owe my life to) and try to find out if I’m being too sensitive or if I’m actually asking for some damn respect around here.

I have some privileges that others don’t have, but I also have some struggles that not a lot have. I wonder if I can ever truly find out where my place is. I don’t want to be petty. I don’t want to say “oh woe is me.” But I don’t want to be a tyrant. I don’t want to be selfish.

I rip my own flesh off trying to find out how to be perfect. I found out I wasn’t perfect and I figured that I need to be punished if I hurt someone’s feelings, so I hurt myself. Now I feel like everyone stares at me with those glowing eyes a predator has.

I want you to tell me what I did wrong. Not just so I can improve, but I can make up for it. What do you wish from me? For me to stab my eye out? To cut off a toe? Maybe a finger? Go on. I don’t live for myself because I have anxiety. I live for others.

[gentlefauna]

3. eye contact. my anxiety as a poem.

[sadowlswriting]

The thought of living alone is nice, but when being home alone after everyone's left to go some place, i realise that it's nice for the first hour or two.

Then anxiety wraps around me, makes my insides feel fizzy, and sends dull aches from my stomach, to my arms.

The silence filled by the ticking of clocks, it's enough to drive me insane.

Find something to focus, find something to distract: I tell myself, hoping that I'll be too focused to hear the electricity in the walls, and those damn clocks.

I don't feel safe enough to do the things I normally do, like: write, or read, or draw, so I scroll on my phone watching short videos to keep me entertained. Only it doesn't work, as I glance at the time in the corner every 2 minutes, and the damn ticking of the clocks only serves as a reminder.

When people finally retreat back home, do I realise the truth that: the thought of living alone is nice, but the act itself is absolutely terrifying.

Yet the funny thing is, is that when people do return back home, I scurry away in my own little room, where yet again I am alone. And it is there that I realise again: it is nice to be alone, but comforting to know that there is life I know outside this room.

-Owl.

[fuckingwhateverdude]

prompt: dying inside

fight or flight !

[thatsimplepoet]

the 15th of november

the way that the day

has only just started

and i am already

drowning in my anxiety

feels incredibly unfair

in the grand scheme of things

because i had so much hope

for the beauty of today

-ree

[illustratinglaura]

I can’t sleep so fuck it, here’s a poem for all us anxious sleep deprived saints.

Greet Each Other With a Holy Kiss

Abyss opens up

Where the chest kisses the throat

Like Judas

Betraying lungs fill

Up

Up

Up

Pregnant by holy breath

Forced

Down

Down

Down

Adam’s nostrils

I heard somewhere

In the Holy States of America

You can sue someone for resuscitating

Without a consent

I lie

In an unholy state

Kept alive by kisses

In the abyss.

[patchwork-poet]

Wouldn't it be nice

If my heart was in my chest?

If I could keep it all in one place

Instead of all this mess?

But all the little pieces

Got scattered to the wind,

And I couldn’t even hope

To put them back again.

When I try to take control

By holding your hand

You slip right through my fingers

Like a million grains of sand.

My heart is beating

In a hundred different places

Fragile as glass

And beyond my calculations.

[lavender--scented]

Is it okay if I sleep next to you tonight? My fears are overwhelming me, winding around my throat and preventing the words from coming out. Can I hold your hand? Can I stay close to you? Can I inhale all that you are and exhale all that I love about you?

Is it alright if I bury my face in your hair? Can I let my thoughts merge with yours? Where do I end and where do you begin? Where is the seam?

Can you hold me? Can you whisper meaningless, pointless things to me? Can you keep me safe? Cover me with your wings and keep me warm and away from harm, like a mother hen. You're an angel.

I'm sorry for bothering you.

I love you more than I can fathom.

[nd-poite]

Regret Pt. 1

I love him

Of course I love him

How could I not love him?

I mean — he’s the love of my life— The man of my dreams!

He’s my best friend.

Who do I go to when I need someone to talk to?

Who do I think of when I dream about getting old?

Who do I get feedback from when I start projects?

Who do I want by my side when life turns to hell?

He’s the closest thing I know to love

The closest thing to health and prosperity. . .

Wherever I go, he’ll always find me

Wherever he goes, I’ll always miss him

If the world went black, I’d reach out and he’d be there — my hands are meant hold, my hands are his to hold

Isn’t that love?

Direction. Contentment. Belonging.

Life. Warmth. Purpose.

To love him is to need him

To leave him is to die

He’s the closest thing to health and prosperity that I know

The closest thing to love that I’ve ever experienced, relied on, been comforted by, and felt relief from

[thisismynamenowxpoetry]

You know,

It’s hard to listen to my thoughts when I don’t know which ones are real because my brain loves creating new ones and I’ll get flustered because I don’t know if it’s real and if I listen to them for too long I’ll get sucked in

[casandraspoems]

Uncertain (Poem)

I speak in uncertainties

Never wanting to offend, mislead, or be wrong

If my truth is not The Truth, is it a lie?

So a well placed “I think” “maybe” “I could be wrong”

Is vital to everyday speech

Questions are best answered with an inflection

Up a pitch and slightly drawn out

I may know an answered but I can’t be sure it’s The Answer

I live uncertainly

Even actions can be incorrect

So hesitancy is used amply

Repetition does not eradicate mistakes

It’s best to check tasks 3 times and once more just in case

[harringtons-cupid]

Anxiety

Heart palpitations

Sweaty hands

Heavy breathing

Nausea

Be still for a moment

Little one

Close your eyes

Take a big deep breath in

Take a big deep breath out

You are safe

You are in control

You are going to be okay

Stay still

Touch your skin

Touch the floor

Listen to sounds

Listen to your thoughts

You are safe

Open your eyes

Drink water

One deep breath in

One deep breath in

Anxiety

Scares you

Is harmless

If you let it

Bite you

Bite it back

You are okay

I’m here

— H.B September 2022

[brightandblossom]

I look at the news, or the changing temperatures, or the uncertain future, and my mind feels like it’s on fire. 

But then I find myself in a little coffee shop, with a cappuccino and a book. 

At present, I guess I am ok. 

[fuckingwhateverdude]

bloody + blushing

generalized anxiety disorder