SHE

According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, “Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness in the U.S., affecting 40 million adults in the United States age 18 and older, or 18% of the population” (Anxiety 1). Whether it comes in forms of social anxiety,  OCD, depression, or specific phobias, anxiety has the power to cripple its host and prevent them from living a normal life. Although this common mental illness is treatable, many live with the constant burden of what their anxiety may become. Possessing one’s mind, body, and soul, anxiety displays its power in She, an original.

Dear World,

She is not gentle, nor predictable,

She is the lightning before the roar of the thunder, a careful destruction.
She is not sparing, nor kind,
She climbs up my throat from the pit of my stomach grasping every breath I have ever taken before doing back flips underwater,

coming up to the surface only to find nothing but captivity.

She takes and she takes and she takes the oxygen I find comfort in from kissing my mother goodbye, and the carbon dioxide I let out after every night in her grasp, hoping that tomorrow will be okay,
tomorrow will be okay,

but she holds on tight,
and she claims her ground, she reminds me that I am nothing,

I am her prisoner.
As adrenaline pumps through my thirsty veins,
She feeds my unknowing addiction.
Lighting up, syringe in, like heroine crawling into my body,
As a cherry red slushy would climb up a straw into the mouth of a young child on a warm summer day,
Her power hits,
Acting as a catalyst for my too fast of a beating heart,
Every beat, beat, beat pulsating through my body,
Faster than the wings of a baby bird's first flight only to plummet to the ground,
Beat, beat, beat,
Like a woman flinching from her husband’s familiar fist,
Beat, beat, beat,
Every thump like the shots heard in memory of a passing soldier,
I tremble with fear, remorse, and regret, (x3)
Picking apart every scenario that had gotten me to this place,

I can see my actions in the blink of an eye and I cry, I cry for the things that I cannot change, I cry for the love that I cannot feel, and I cry for the faith that has vanished from my being.

Unaware, and afraid,
God creeped down from the heavens above and wrapped his almighty hands around my neck,
And the words flash by like breaking news,
That I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,
But Christ is not my savior, he is the cracking whip to my delicate and untouched back that sends flashes through my body like electricity through metal.
Her love is not patient, her love is not kind,
Her love is destitute of forgiveness, and her love takes all.
She holds my ability to speak in her delicate hands,

Reminding me that I am helpless.

I try to once again connect with the world that I once knew all too well but,
My thoughts become distant,
And my shaking hands shove pills down my throat to fight this battle and then there is
Nothing but static on an ancient tv screen,
Constantly static on a hand-held radio,
Forever static in the depth of my mind,
And the words began to crumble inside of me and all I could mutter to say,
Was help,  
God help me,
Let her let go of me,
take the blade out of my hand,

put the crimson back in my body,

Stop shaking, Stop crying, Stop trying to fight it,
Because once I do, I’m already gone, I’m already gone.

I clench my fists in a fit of rage and exhale at the beautiful sting that is my release.

The voices in my head cloud the judgement of myself and all I can see is
Black, black, black,
The black auras that surround me act as a barrier from what I could be, constraining my creativity, attacking my worth, the dark cloud trespasses into my own reality.

The voices become repetitive with words that sound like nails on a chalkboard, they are screeching, but all at once they begin to fade.

She is overcome by 2 parts klonopin and one part zoloft, but she fights hard, and she holds no mercy.

The adrenaline slowly leaves my body as a junky coming down from a high,

She lets go of the reigns,

Teaching me a new lesson of loyalty with every spark of an attack,

She holds my hand into the unknown,

Promising that one day things will be different,

But I am numb, and I can’t look into the eyes of tomorrow,

And stare at the sunset, and take in all its beauty,

Because nothing is sacred, and everything is all too hazy.

She takes her final breaths and recedes into the corners of my mind, waiting.

A constant reminder that anxiety is more than a feeling.