One for the anxious…

My woes surround me from all directions, as I walk down the same lane each day. I stop for a while and the cloud of stress swallows me whole. There was a time when I could see the light through it all, but now, all I see is smoke. Smoke from the fire that burns my ambitions, smoke from the fire that burns my dreams, as I doubt anything and everything. I write my name and check the spellings, I use a calculator to add 2 and 2. My boggart follows me wherever I go, and even laughter cannot make it disappear. It changes forms but never leaves.

Death scares me but not my own, it is the fear of losing more and more. I look at the ones I love, and think when they will leave, and cry because they surely will. I think of letting go every time I stand on the edge holding the letter, but the screams of terror stop me. So I turn back every time, and return to the darkness once more. The boggart follows.

I laugh, cry and also smile but it all comes with the tick of the stopwatch. I lay in bed every night putting it all together for the next day. I plan each step and predict the outcomes. However, there are things that I cannot predict and they just get the best of me, as I lay helpless going through it all over again. I feel sick all the time but the thermometer doesn’t show it.

I dive into pages of fantasies and stay with the people that comfort me. I put the earphones in so that the world can stay out for a while. The tunes I hum on the subway are always the same because I like the tune of familiarity. I walk with the heavy mask of pretense and keep it on the whole day. It helps me walk by without being recognized for what I really am inside.

My fear of the unknown and uncertain does not let me step forward. I don’t dream about the future, I only count my fears of it. Everything repeats as I open my eyes each day, which is funny, because I don’t remember closing them. I spend my time thinking and re-thinking everything that I think. They ask me a yes/no question, and I answer with a maybe, for I see the dark in every white and the glass always remains empty.

Photo by Fernando Cabral on Pexels.com

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