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poemsbylorna · 5 years

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Just Breathe . . .

Just breathe, they all say as the panic starts to rise through my body. Just breathe.

Well here's the thing: I can't.

I can't breathe.

That's the first thing I notice during the lesson when my whole body seems to suddenly become this kind of inferno while feeling like ice all at the same time. Then comes the shakiness, the bouncing leg, the inability to write anything. The pen falls on top of the paper as my head drops into my hands. My heart's beating too fast against the confines of my ribcage, a bird begging to be freed. Is this what dying feels like? I really hope not. I'm not ready to die and if I am, then not like this. Not here, surrounded by people watching as I break down completely.

I can't breathe.

It's the middle of the night. Everyone in the house is sleeping. My friends, my family, there's no one to talk to: everyone's sleeping peacefully and I can't help but feel that familiar swell of jealously rise in my chest. I wish I was sleeping as peacefully as they all are. I can't focus, my mind is blurring at the edges as reality and fiction seem to mix in this mass of colours and noise. There's a lump in my throat that's blocking my airways but no matter how much I swallow it won't move, my throat just seems to become more constricted. Tears are gathering in my eyes: this is it, this is the end. Here comes the panic. That manic feeling that blows everything way out of proportion. Say goodbye to common sense. I'm dying! Some kind of heart attack or something.

I can't breathe.

And it feels like I'm dying and I'm trying not to be too loud with my sobs but it's getting harder and harder to breathe as the moments pass and I hate it. I hate this. Why am I like this? This broken? Why does this happen to me? What's wrong with me? There's got to be something wrong with me for this to be happening! Something in me is broken, surely.

I can't breathe.

Is this what dying feels like? I hope not, but if it is then I want it to hurry up.

I can't breathe.

I'm okay with dying. My lungs have two options here: start working properly, or stop completely. It's up to them now because I don't know which I'd prefer. As long as the decision makes this feeling go away I don't care which is chosen.

I can't breathe.

I haven't been able to breathe properly since anxiety took root in my lungs. It made itself a home out of the organs and planted it's stupid little seeds. The flowers grew almost immediately. They're beautiful, really, all bright and colourful but they've made my lungs stop functioning properly and despite their beauty they bring nothing but pain. The flowers are too pretty to kill though, so I think I'll let them stay even if it means I can't breathe.

So here's the thing, to everyone out there telling me to just breathe: I can't! Don't you get it? I can't breathe, but I really wish I could and I really wish I couldn't all at the same time. Telling me to just breathe does nothing! I can't breathe, but I'm used to it by now.

#anxiety #anxious #anxiety attack #panic #panic attack #depression #3am thoughts #i can't breathe #anxiety's flowers #flowers #malfunctioning lungs

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poemsbylorna · 5 years

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CONTROL

Sometimes I find the little control I have spilling through the gaps in my trembling grip.

I don’t mean to let the floodgates open, but the pressure is building and building and building and it all becomes too much.

That’s when the gates crack and crumble but I continue to hold them firmly in place.

This is not the night, I refuse to be reduced to a shaking mess of teary eyes and broken mind.

This is not happening tonight.

Not tonight.

The days already been a disaster of tears and fall outs and just a mess in general.

Tonight, is not the night.

I will my mind to hold on, stay strong until the morning sunlight breaks through the gap in the curtains.

I write while I do this.

Every thought that slips past the carefully built and crumbling gates is spilt onto the sheet of paper before me, the letters smudged by the unknown tears leaking down my cheeks.

Tonight, is not the night.

My control is slipping more and more.

I don’t understand why I’m holding on.

If I just –

No!

No! No! No!

Tonight, is not the night.

My resolve sharpens and my mind finally seems to start functioning correctly again.

When sunlight shines into the room, chasing away the darkness that was previously there, I relax.

Big mistake.

My control is gone.

The floodgates crumble to dust and the thoughts come tumbling through to the forefront of my mind.

Tears pour rapidly now, and I want them to stop.

But they won’t.

I know this.

I am no longer in control.

The demons in my head have taken over for now, they are the ones wearing the crown and ruling the kingdom that is me.

A kingdom that will die soon if I do not regain control.

But what control is there to regain when not a sliver of it remains?

#depression #anxiety #panic attack #anxiety attack #insomnia #insomniac #3am thoughts #poetry #dark thoughts #panic

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