Anxious
Gunshots
Who could it be?
I picture a student in ill-fitting clothing and unwashed hair.
What kind of rifle?
Is this how I'll die?
What will I say when I beg for my life?
I stop breathing.
Eyes are frantic
My heart sinks like lose change.
I Imagine all my classmates bleeding.
I'm listening for pleas or screaming.
Lock the doors! Turn off the lights!
Everyone's going to die!
It's nothing. It was just a door being closed.
Adrenaline is still flooding my body,
Toes are tingling,
Head is buzzing
A door closed
A door closed and I stopped breathing.
A door closed and I'm the dumbest person alive!
A door closed and my anxiety ruptured inside of me like a shotgun shell.
This happens all day
Every day
Every continuos hemorrhaging day
Regardless of time and regardless of rain
I am paranoid and scared and feel like I'm crazy.
Under a concrete slab of ten tons of anxiety.
I confide in my mother
She's the eye of a storm and still brings me comfort even at 18.
I tell her that I can't stay focused in school.
I can't sleep because I just know someone followed me home.
Whenever I drive I imagine I'll die.
I can't eat because I'm afraid of who might have touched my food before me.
I hold my little brother extra close before he leaves for school each day
Just incase the lonely student with a gun hurts him too.
My brain has been held captive by an intruder with no purpose.
Constant fear and vulgar images are plaguing my mind.
I want to yank the steering wheel because a telephone pole to the skull would hurt less than this endless game of keep away with my sanity.
For the first time since I was 14, I see my mother cry.
She rushes me to urgent care, I can't stop shaking
I bite the inside of my cheek so roughly I taste blood.
A waiting room
The air is stale
A coughing Hispanic women and an overweight old man
They take note of my tear streaked face and look away
A smiling Doctor and a quick but sincere handshake
A ticking clock
A stern yet sympathetic face
A prescription for Xanex
A prescription for Zoloft
A backup prescription for Prozac just incase
A heavy week full of side effects
And now I don't feel anything
Not happy
Not angry
Not afraid of the world
I wasn't sleeping at first but I adjusted really well
And I would really like to sing but I can't find the words
And now I'm dependent on a chemical calm
And I wish I could live with no medication.
Without panic or bottomless fear.
I wish I could round out the edges on my own
But I can't
I can't and I know I can't.
And it's heavy and red hot and boiling over with regret.
I no longer hear gunshots.
I know it's a door.
It echoes through my hollowed out brain
Was it worth it?
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