Anxiety and Depression--a conversation with myself

I want to talk to people--

They’ll just make fun of the
way you sound. You stutter
and trip on everything you

say so they tune you out
and pretend to listen the moment
your mouth opens.

I want to spend time with people--

They’ll make fun of
the way you look. You’re
so hideous and so
fat it is disgusting.

I want to see my friends--

What friends? You’ve never
had one and you never will.
You’re so clingy and demanding
that people try to distance themselves
with each phone call and visit you make
until you give up on even trying.

My parents are being nice to me--

They’re only nice because
they want something from you.
They don’t care about you
so face it: everyone hates you.

I’ve been offered a job--

You’ll never get it because
you’re either too chicken to
call back or, if you do,
you'll just say something stupid
to f**k it up.

I want to do something new--

And what would that be?
You’re so predictable and
pathetic that anything
new would send you
back home crying.

I’m not hungry--

Don’t kid yourself, you’re
always hungry with the way
you shove food down your
throat. Maybe throwing up
once in a while will make you
feel better.

I’m tired--

Quit making excuses so you
can lay on your disgusting
fat a*s all day.

I’m ready to face the day--

You kidding right? That outfit
you chose shows every fat roll
you have. Go back
to bed where only your
sheets, blankets, and your
vanishing ego can blame you
for doing everything wrong in
your life.