Anxiety Attack

My lungs feel like a paper bag,

letting out air faster than I can replenish.

I begin to fade out of the painful reality I know,

teeth chattering,bleeding wrists.


I'm used to the anonymous accounts,

I'm used to death threats and rumours.

I'm used to sleepless nights and tears in high amounts,

I'm used to throwing up in silence to prevent being heard.


Yet the feeling is renewed every time my brain lacks intrusive thought,

or my eyes fail to shut away the misery my own heart has brought.


Why s it that I lose all control of my body and breathe,

yet I feel trapped within my skin?

My nails pry at the surface, lingering amongst death,

as the darkened cloud of depression and longing chokes me from within.


Why do my eyes feel so heavy, 

why do my hands turn into bulging fists more abusive than my mother's words?

Why do my strikes to my own cranium feel more powerful than her blows to the cheek?

Why do I rock back in forth, feeling my veins bulge with poisoned innocence?


I feel alone, and I feel weak.

My longing is dulling, ambitions below its peak.


Yet I'll wake up tomorrow, once my window reflects the morning sun,

and I'll wait till tomorrow night to burn again in this fire that I wish was done.


  • orchidee

    It won't be so every night and/or every day, will it? Hope not. A fine write describing anxiety amandajane.

    • AmandaJade

      Slowly getting through it! But thank you 🙂 xoxo

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