Anxiety

Just a thing, I wrote about my anxiety.

And in the moment it didn't matter, 

None of it mattered.

The palpitations of my heart, the slight breathlessness, and the goose pimples, that turned my arms to patchwork,

Were all I could feel. 

But I had to focus,

Had to play this right. 

They had to think I was ok, 

And the task needed to be done. 

It grounded me, the task.

At least it did, a little. 

The fear was strong, almost unbearable. 

But needs must, as always, be done. 

And...Breathe. 

I knew, I know, what is expected. 

Then, and in everything, I do.

And if I don't, and it must be done, 

I will expect to fail. But try, with everything I have. 

To keep back this internal war, from ever breaking free. 

And when I am home, and alone. 

I will comb every moment. 

Every mistake I must of made. 

And it is all, always, my fault.

Author's Note

Quick write, thanks for reading. :)

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

It's a good quick write! You nailed it. And, since so many have suffered from anxiety, many readers will get it, too. The third line, particularly vivid, give a vivid image of what so many have experienced. Nice, quick work.