Sometimes, poetry won’t cut it when you feel like your brain is maxing out.
I’m on the verge of having an anxiety attack.
I recognize the precursors by now.
There’s a tightness in my stomach, my back is aching, my head hurts, I can’t sleep.
Now I’m like a ticking time bomb to nobody but myself.
Waiting for the hyperventilation to start.
Waiting for the tears to fall and not stop.
Waiting for the never ending thoughts to amplify in my head, every negative thing at one time. All of the pain, the struggle, the future, the past, the happiness, all of it merges together and explodes.
In those moments, there’s no control of my emotions.
I don’t like when things are out of control.
I am a problem solver. I find solutions. I don’t make excuses.
In these states of panic, I’m none of those things.
I’m just drained.
I don’t want to do a damn thing anymore until this stupid attack happens and I can move forward.