A Confession

For all who have felt helpless, there is hope.

running. fretting. sweating. 
this is how it feels. writhing 
discomfort. alone. i feel so alone. 
but i know not what to do.
i dont know how to control it. 
i feel so ashamed. what if 
people knew? oh, but people do 
know. its apparent by my actions. 
by my behaviors. the lack of smile 
that creases my face. if they think 
im okay with this theyre so wrong.
if they think it doesnt bother me too
theyve no idea. at times it 
feels so surreal. skin tingles. 
heart racing. my skin gets hot 
so i sit on a cold tile floor. 
and it begins. this cant be happening. 
not here. not now. but it does. 
i feel angry, alone, and scared. 
so i try to sleep it off. no avail. 
no sleep, no comfort. i awake, nerves 
alive and fighting. i plan in my mind 
a way to not sound crazy. too late. 
it explodes and i do look crazy. {sigh}. 
so every feeling unleashes at once. 
an ugly amalgamation of selfish 
frustrations. words that dont reflect 
my true feelings pour forth as if the 
gospel itself. i sound hateful and i am 
taken aback. but its too late. its done 
and i am ashamed. i feel nauseas and want 
to disappear. can i leave this world? this 
mess ive created and fallen into? no i cant. 
i own my greatest fears and swallow them hard, 
but it sticks. its a constant reminder each 
time i swallow. im left with feelings of shame and 
regret. all i can do is ask for forgiveness.
this is not me. this ugly monster of anxiety
does not own me. i refuse to let it own me.
im waiting for my love to pour forth like never before.

Author's Note

Intentionally run on. I don't believe in fixing a poem when it's been written in the moment of emotion. Much of the feeling is expressed in the hurried hand and lack of form. It brings a greater sense of helplessness and I will not put together what was broken by pain. Hope this speaks to someone.