Anxiety. All the time.
In crowded restaurants.
At the movies.
Wanting to bolt and run and
Tears that won’t come.
Behind my eyes.
In my brain.
Wanting to pour forth and drench my face
While I scream.
There’s nothing there.
No sound reason.
Just the gut churning
If I had hair,
I’d pull it out and
It’s not like ants crawling on my skin.
It’s like ants in my soul.
6 thoughts on “Words. Words. Words.”
Sending quiet vibes to your soul. You are a good soul.
Thank you. I’m basking in the quiet vibes.
I don’t know if this will help at all in this moment, but I am hearing all around me a deep desire for quiet after a very busy, loud holiday season. So hopefully we can join our quiet vibes wishes together and find a collective, as well as individual, peace. And I have a few quiet vibes to spare tonight so I’m sending them your way my friend.
I already feel better. Writing helps. Feeling the love of friends helps.
This is at once beautiful and painful to read. In so few words, you said so much of what it feels like to be in a bipolar brain, a bipolar body. Just the fact that you can write about it speaks volumes on your inner strength. Writing indeed helps sort out what’s in our heads and helps us stay self-aware, so kudos to you for not only writing, but also for sharing so openly. Please know you are not alone. And your voice is so very important. Keep at it.