sha- sh- shak- shaking.
I can\'t breathe.
my head is aching.
I can\'t find a place to grab.
I\'m hyperventilating as I fall.
I fall to the ground as my body twists.
or... at least that\'s what it feels like.
my body says \"think straight!\" but my brain says \"no, I insist.\"
I look at my prescription bottle,
teary eyed,
as I\'m mentally in pain I still refuse.
but now it\'s 7 in the morning and all night I\'ve cried.
no more pills.
no more prescriptions.
I\'m like a poor man with piled bills,
I can\'t bother anyway.
I want to be my normal self,
but I feel like my regular self is a lifetime membership to depression and panic attacks.
I want to be the happier version of myself,
but I feel like to be that I have to be my medication\'s personality.
do I rely on prescription pills and let it control me?
or do I live on with my life and only hope I get better?
as I\'m writing this my leg is bouncing uncontrollably.
I look at myself and see mascara smeared all over my face
and all on a sweatshirt that isn\'t even mine.
I glance over at my half-filled pill bottle that has lost its place.
I look down at my paper and see so many words scribbled out with pen.
does it end with this?
or will I feel lost even longer,
in my bed looking for a nonexistent place called home?
will I get stronger?
because it\'s been many damn years without an answer from God.