Frantic

An anxiety poem. Written at 7AM in the morning after gasping awake with dread. I drafted this frantically on a napkin to find release during an intense period of pressure and external stress.

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Throw up, or cramp up.

Pounding, head whirling,

Thoughts scrambling, throat cobbling out

ragged sobs.

Salty tears burning down

blotched and blazing cheeks.

 

You wake, feeling paralyzed, terrorized

by the rabid reeling of your own mind.

You see today stretching out before you,

and convulse into fearing,

quaking, 

shaking,

dreading

your forsaken place in it.

You don’t want to be there. Anywhere but there.

 

The here and now is safe but fleeting,

sheltered even though it’s transient, that

quivering

space of grace that

exhales for a second – Then it’s

gone, time marches on,

and it’s scary as hell.

 

Fear.

For a second, then – what?

What now? How

to plow through this?

You breathe.

You call friends.

You run when the stress compels you,

forces you to release, make peace

with that flailing, fiery energy

which burns burns burns

your brain.

 

You eat your greens.

You journal.

You write furiously, feverishly

vomiting out the

hate and stress and fear

that make up the motion sickness

of your life right now.

 

But still you feel it there, lurking.

That anxious beast is

prowling,

growling,

snarling

at the tenuous doors of your heart.

 

Relief

through writing is the key

ingredient that sets you free.

Pooling all of your thoughts onto the

safe oasis of a private page to

soak up your negativity.

Your pen reaps what the heart weeps.

Because the only way

to soothe that anxious beast

is to make it purr. Lure and

caress it with your pen, and only then

do the truthful tones of your heart

cause it to cower

at the power of your story.

 

Hope

is here. You feel it, that

small swell of eagerness is

blooming, looming, letting you know that

this too shall pass. You

have no proof besides

your years passed, where

your soul asked for a similar

period of stretching, moaning, and groaning.

And you emerged,

having endured a painful spurt

that hurt but was

necessary for you to grow and know

to take stride in life.

 

You are not alone.

For those entering new spaces,

For those traversing strange places,

For those surrounded by unfamiliar faces

and are far from home

and are adjusting to the underrated, unadulterated rollercoaster of life;

I’m with you.

I feel you.

I hear you.

This is for you as much as it is for me.

Write it out, my loves

And together we’ll get through this.

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