There’s a floating answer to a question I seek but cannot obtain. Why does my own mind go against me? There are days where I wish to be a part of something, but something in my head goes off, and says, “No.”

My anxiety is talking to me. My anxiety wants to talk for me. Sometimes, it does. It feels like a voice that wants to become my sole voice. Having two anxiety attacks this year wasn’t exactly what I planned as my New Year’s Resolution. Now, if it were only so simple to find a solution and have it expedited. My anxiety is everything I wish not to be.

Harsh words spewed at those who don’t deserve it,
Regrets chained me as I was the one who served it.
Was it me? Was it, without a fear of doubt, me? Or was it my anxiety?
I’m the one who said what I said but those thoughts –
they do not belong in my head.
Anxious thoughts have taken residency inside my mind,
now my genuine intuition is a lost find.
Impulsive and irrational decisions based on racing emotions,
my heart rate is speeding in a race I know I won’t win –
my hope and faith is running thin.
All I want to do is run away.
/ To escape it all /

It’s conflicting because I want to run away from… myself. I cannot handle my thoughts and refuse to take ownership of them because of how dark they are – this ship of mine has crashed.

violent thoughts collide with terrible endings
I see my future without a future
it starts with d and ends with h
spiraling down into a chaotic state of mind
where my head hurts just as much as my heart
I’m becoming a monster because I don’t feel human.

I don’t feel like myself.
I am scared of myself.
Is this me? Truly?

I sense steps coming forth my way with a shadow I’ve seen before. It is familiar but in a chilling manner. It reminds me of an icy winter where I am once again unprepared and warmth becomes a scarcity and is almost prohibited to encounter and grasp. I seek refuge, a place to hide, because I am now an animal who’s ashamed of her own hide –

my skin feels alien-like
if you compared who I was last week to who I was last night
we are nothing alike.
speaking of feel,
I seek to feel something, anything,
than what I’m feeling now.
It doesn’t matter how.

I don’t feel like myself.

When I was young, I used to fear the monsters under my bed in the dark, but now I fear the monster I lay in bed with every night – my mind. Writing this post was daunting to me because these are the unadulterated words spinning around in my head. I fear not the judgement of these lines, but the consequences. I ask the universe, in this moment, is there yet another battle I must conquer again? I must ask, is my depression coming back?