anxiety

Anxiety is a cage, a box with no air. Its a silent paranoid suffocation. Its a prison or castle. Its a haunting. Its a place inside that locks up and the lock freezes over and over until it becomes unbreakable, impenetrable. I black out the windows and bar the doors and for days or weeks I have an anonymous existence. I lurk in the shadows of my own hallways, jailed inside my own home. Every crinkle of a leaf outside my home, every car door, every laugh from the bright world outside, sends my stomach swirling into a sickness no one understands. Who is coming to do me harm I wonder from inside my dark fort. I put ink to paper, trying to medicate my collapse, this works temporarily, until the next sound invades my world, until the next knock on the door, until the next possible scenario plays out in my mind, like a silent picture with only white noise and distorted imagery. I might hide inside my bed, if I'm lucky enough to fall to sleep. I might turn the music high inside my headphones if I get the chance. But for the most part I cower inside my home terrified of callers and clocks. When it passes I will open the curtains and walk out of my home and no one will know where I have been, I will have an excuse of Course and its normally accepted. No one questions me or digs deeper than I can take. This suits me well, this allows me to be the girl you see and the truth you don't. Its the only way I know how to do life. I feel far too much for a world so void of love.