Breathe. It seems like the simplest task there is, something so easy we do it while sleeping. I know I'm doing it. I'm breathing as if I was running out of air, breathing so hard and heavily I nearly collapse but I don't even feel it. I'm suffocating in my fear. Of what? There's nothing I can even hear but the pounding of my heart screaming run even though there's nothing to be running from. Just breathe. It doesn't feel like I can breathe and all I want to do is scream. The pain is the worst part. The feeling of your core, your heart, physically hurting so intensely and painfully I can barely stand. Well, for that, I have cortisol to blame. The things cortisol has done to my brain. I've been shaking too much. I'll regret this, for I know what this means. I'm not always as happy as I seem. I've been doing so good I've been standing so strong, I've been so healthy and self-loving I suppose it's been too long. Too long since days like this where I can't move I can't think, all I can think is I need to breathe and I know I am but anxiety has other plans. My heart's pounding faster. Shame. Shame on me for feeling this way. I can't ever feel sad without feeling ashamed. I can't speak without wanting to cry yet I have the least of an idea as to why. I cry with the blankets in my bed to hold me and any distraction to keep away the lonely. I guess it's disappointing to have this day. I'm not strong today. I'm weak. Since the day before yesterday. Three days? Too long. And maybe when I wake it will be a poem about happiness I make. But I have no guarantees until I finally feel like I can breathe.
YOU ARE READING
Quiver
Poetrya place where I've written my feelings when I felt them. it has become a story of depression and recovery, love and loss, hope and fear, and everything in-between. mostly poetry, sometimes stories. :)
