Anxiety

They told me to open the door, they told me to let my feelings in.
They told me it would get better, that it couldn’t get worse.
Well, it did.
It did.

You see, everybody is an expert – they go to college, get a degree – well, you can’t be taught how it feels to be me.
Anxiety is just a state of mind - really? Is it? It sure as hell feels like something more to me.

When my chest feels so tight, that I’m sure each breath will be my last, how do you expect me to sit there and say ‘this isn’t real, this can’t hurt me.’?
You can’t, I can’t.

Fight, or flight - right?
Wrong.
They say anxiety shouldn’t be avoided, that you should face it head on, but who the hell wants to do that, when escaping is so much easier?

Fighting isn’t as easy as they think.

Each time I press my hand to my chest, and inhale deeply, whimpering ‘this isn’t real, this can’t hurt me’, my doubt grows a little more.

I can’t fight this, no.
I learnt that the hard way, when I let my feelings in, when I opened up the door.

And now, I am suffering in silence.