Anxiety

My body is permeated with disquiet
My thoughts are cloudy my mind racked with fear
I cant control my breathe as I breathe erratically when I’m in public
People stare at me the anxiety intensifies i fall down a black hole of sadness

On the outside i never feel safe I’m alone terrified of a panic attack
I take long breathes to maintain my breathing cycle
I diligently try to maintain a veneer if sanity whilst on the inside I’m crying I’m screaming
In the midst of my injurious anxiety i yearn i ache for the euphoria of solitude

This pernicious anxiety disorder is detrimentally affecting the quality of my life
I cant cultivate romantic relationships due to my acute social phobia
I habitually turn down ardent calls for nights out with close confidants over the anxiety i will endure on a night of socialising of fraternising
I am alone in the darkness unable to articulate to vent my pain of this anxiety

I get pernicious attacks on a monthly basis
Its a horrifying ordeal when i am afflicted with a random panic attack
I cant breathe i collapse to the floor i think I’m dying
Then there’s a profusion of tears i secrete from my eyes after the hell of a panic attack its constant never ending torture I face day after day unable too function unable to live a full gregarious ebullient life

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Dead

No emotion no colour no feeling in my weary bones
I am dead waiting to die feeling nothing existing as a ghost
I meander through life aimlessly in languid zombie like states of numbed despair
I am dead i have become death

The emotion the insatiable slug for life has faded away
The desire for love the dreams are now but dust fantastical illusions
I want nothing more to die to cease to be
Oh to die to end the terminal onerous pain of my pointless existence

Other people exude life and joy
They emit vibrant colours whilst i am this back and white monochrome dulled
A vacant vapid empty shell of a human being
Theres nothing inside of me just a vast emptiness

I used to dream to cry profusely to laugh with friends
Now I’m this laconic withdrawn freak who holds all my pain on the inside
This injurious mental illness my suicidal inclinations have conquered me have slowly corrupted my body and soul
Now i ache for death I dream of a myriad favourable ways of ending my forlorn life i dream of being but a fading sad memory instead of a sad young adult who’s silent screams of emotional torment are unheard in this cold godless universe

Given Up

A gaunt face with sallow checks devoid of colour
Eyes that once were effervescent now appear listless and haunted
A body haunched over emitting negative energy
No eye contact no ebullient smile as she meets strangers or lifelong friends

She has given up on life
Give up on the glorious possibility of love
Given up on ever conquering or vanquishing her demons
She has succumbed to a wretched lonely life of pain

Depression follows her like a pungent noxious odour
She longs to be liberated from her deep seated psychological conditions
She aches to be happy to be normal to not be besieged with a pernicious anxiety disorder
In her forlorn mind she has given up the ghost

As she ventures outside rudimentary conversations and mundane social setting are filled with anxiety
A simple task like going shopping is pure hell
A 8 hour workday is involves a tortuous anxiety that never abates
She aches for the ecstasy of solitude where the distress alleviates somewhat

Getting home for the serenity of her grotty one bed flat
There are transient moments of inner peace
Soon though her neurotic mind is permeated with loneliness with the perennial alienation of her wretched adulthood
She lays down on her couch feeling numb feeling nothing wanting to die wanting to feel the elation of love wanting to connect with another lost soul

Sorrow Sorrow Sorrow

Sorrow is all i encounter
My mind is consumed by the sorrow of being me
I laying alone in the emptiness of my bed
Feeling dejected disconsolate with my bones aching with sorrow

My life has become a ocean of sorrow a endless desert of beleaguerment
I awake day after day with the same wretched sorrow
No escape no abatement in this melancholic state of being
I go home after a day of attending lectures and cry alone in my room

The pain the suffering the untreated psychological wounds
The sorrow the heartbreak the self loathing that makes my skin crawl my emaciated body ache
I cry alone never revealing never exposing my sorrow to another soul
This pungent odour of sadness permeates my entire being

I cant escape I can’t extricate this despair from my mind
Tears wont dry sorrow stays with it stains my once youthful optimistic soul
Night are long and empty as i sit alone in the pitch black of my room feeling forlorn wanting to end the wretched sorrow wanting for somebody to hear my screams of lament
I exist in the darkness unable to see the light unable to broadcast my torturous sorrow that haunts me

The tears dry the pain remains
The sorrow is like a noxious gas slowing poising me
The sorrow combines with the deep abiding revulsion i feel for myself
A toxic cocktail that leaves me paralysed in chronic states of despair

Everyday I Think About Killing Myself

Mental illness runs in my family my mum suffered from severe depression her entire adult life. My mum dealt with her terminal depression in a english women by never divulging her emotional torture to anybody. She was a stereotypical english women who was emotional repressed who was unable to be candid about her suicidal inclinations. I have inherited these detrimental personality traits from my mum. I have endured since i was 13 deep depression i also suffer from a paralysing social anxiety a negative attribute my deeply introverted father has. In my family we never communicated emotionally even though i had two loving affectionate parents who were demonstrative effusive in showing their love for me.

When i was 13 years old in my formative teenage years a traumatic life altering event befall our family. Me and my accountant father were driving home from my cello lesson and arrived atour suburban residence and discovered the grisly sight of my mums body hanging from the ceiling. My mum had killed herself and left only a succinctly worded suicide note where she elucidated her reasons why she committed suicide. It was a devastating moment that forever altered my perceptive on life on God on myself. After that day i became severely depressed developed long term anxiety issues began to suffer from habitual panic attacks and the genesis of my body dysmorphia occurred after the tragic death of my mum at the tender age of 38. Following her suicide i distanced myself from my father lived in the sanctuary of my room when i was home. We rarely conversed other than banal small talk we never dared to open up the wounds of my mums untimely suicide. Like a prototypical middle class middle England family we repressed our pain.

Its been nearly 10 years since that tumultuous day when my mum killed herself. Since then i have progressed from a neurotic anxiety riddled teenager into a troubled adult with untreated unexpressed psychosis and disorders. The anxiety has exacerbated into a detrimental social phobia. The depression is metastasised into daily sick suicidal fantasises. Like my mum i have refrained from confiding with a friend or seeking the ameliorating help of a professional therapist. I have hidden suppressed my mental illnesses the fear of being vulnerable the terrifying fear of being judged by another person. Hence i put on this veneer of normality hiding my crippling perennial psychological problems. I halve inherited my mums introverted propensities to never cry in public to exist in private inner world of emotional torment.

I muse daily on killing myself in my overactive imagination. Everyday its a new manner of death every conceivable iteration i ponder. Whether its a drug overdose to the harrowing hanging slitting of my wrists and severing a vital artery. I think about jumping from a block flats and letting my emaciated body get crushed on the concrete floor. I ruminate whether or not i will leave a note a poem what i would say in this verbose or succinctly worded suicide creation. On numerous moments when the idea of suicide has seen to me alluring i have composed a variety of poems essays in which i delineate the reasons why I want to end my life prematurely. These are dark desolate moments in my lonely life when the only escape from the immiseration of my pathetic life is to cease existing.

One time when i cut myself in a desperate act of a self harm on my underarm to feel some pain. I decided with my inhibitions loosened from devouring copious amounts of alcohol to call the Salvation Army suicide number. I spoke with a kind softly spoken serene women who dissuaded me from slashing my wrists. This is the only instance i ever openly talked to another soul about my oppressive depression that’s negatively impacted every facet of my life. It wasn’t a genuine suicide attempt it was though a forlorn cry for help in the early hours of a Saturday morning. I cried during and after this laconic phone conversation which lasted a mere 5 minutes. The aftermath of this interaction was a feeling of elation to unburden myself from the shackles of my emotional repression. To finally divulge my darkest secrets to a faceless compassionate stranger left me feeling euphoric even with the tears the snot falling down my nose. With my lacerated arms i had a moment when I acknowledged to another person my illness i was vulnerable with the help of alcohol.

However subsequent after that potential momentous phone conversation i fall back into my negative behavioural pattern of adopting this facade this exterior of normalcy . I reneged from disclosing my depression my anxiety to my small tribe of cohorts. I never sought out the rehabilitative help of a therapist who could improve my depression. The pain would only be unveiled on my online poems my diary entries my blog. None of my friends family work colleagues would ever be cognisant of the severity of my fragile mental state. I continued hiding my anxiety attacks my self harm my suicidal proclivities. Still i would fantasise about ending my life fantasise about the funeral. What would my father say in the eulogy would there be a profusion of tears from the funeral attendees. My perfect method of suicide I have surmised is to die from an overdose of opiate painkillers whilst listening to the soothing melancholic songs of Lana del Rey. Hearing her soothing dulcet melodic tones as I drift off into nothingness would be the perfect way to end my short lamentable life.

Some days the pain the torture the purgatory of life becomes so onerous i just want to die. In my broken mind I’m screaming end the pain end the pain fuck being alive. I cant take it anymore cant endure the loneliness the abject desolation of my forlorn existence. Walking around i utter the silent words to myself freak freak freak die you bitch when i pass strangers who cast their derisive glares at my direction. I’m screaming at myself wanting to be nothing screaming with my self loathing laments to die. These are the worst days when the dark fantasies feel so real when death is plausible to me. Everyday though even on rare days of tranquility I contemplate suicide.

Recurring Nightmares

I have a recurring nightmare that usually occurs once a month
It gives me chills as i awake from this harrowing nightmare
My damaged subconscious in my dreams shows me my repressed fears
This recurring nightmare give me anxiety fills my soul with dread

It starts with me alone in a hall of mirrors
I am starting at my grotesque face and unsightly emaciated flat body
I stare at the mirror it changes as all the mirrors reflect my haunted bloodshot eyes devoid of vitality
Then it focuses on my gnarled crocked teeth showing me awkwardly smile
Then these malevolent supernatural mirrors focus on my body on
In this dream i begin to cry profusely as tears of utter despair flow from my eyes

Then I notice myself slowly becoming naked something is removing my clothing
In the mirror i see a thousand laughing faces iPhone flashing
They laughing at disgust and derision i fall to the floor hold my head in my hands
In this dark dream i suffer a panic attack i close my eyes but cant escape the horror of the mirror i cry and cry begging for it to end
Then i awake breathing heavily with my face submerged in sweat

After this dark nightmare a vision of my twisted psyche
With my self loathing my body dysmorphia my fear of mirrors
I am unable to fall back to sleep
For days after this traumatic dream i suffer another pernicious bout of insomnia with my anxiety laden consciousness

The Hunger Inside

I perpetually fantasise about meeting the man of my dreams
A man with dark brown hair with a full head of hair
A man with deep ocean blue eyes that pierce into my soul without evasion or artifice
This man has luscious sensuous lips that electrify me sexually as i kiss his succulent red lips

This is a hunger a insatiable yearning for life that remains unfulfilled
I have never had the fortitude to pursue love
Too socially awkward to be vulnerable with a divine figure of masculine perfection
I dream of falling in love i dream of having drug infused sex where my body and soul is taken too higher plains of consciousness

Its a emptiness that in my short 22 years is unrealised
I want to break the shackles of my social anxiety and overcome my demons my flaws and find the euphoria of love
I want to feast on the altar of love to taste the sumptuous fruits of spiritual love

This man exists somewhere in this vast universe
He exist in my imagination as a ideal
I want to actualise this fantasy
I want to hold his hand to feel his immaculately toned body rub against mine in a divine act of physical intimacy