First of all, it’s not knowing what to say
After rehearsing it to yourself in the mirror for hours.
It’s realizing that it’s 1 a.m.,
And you started at 10:30
And you have been working on the same paragraph for hours.
The symptoms take their marks
Your heart races,
Your eyes start to swell
And you can’t do anything about it besides cry and shake
The mole hill becomes the mountain
And the tiny problem is now blown out of proportion
It’s going on a nice family outing to see Cats,
And mid-show you start to worry,
that the end is inevitable,
That everyone is going to die,
And once you die, you are gone forever
You begin to cry
unable to enjoy the flashing lights and dancing you were so excited for
So you tap your dad,
Who pushes you away.
And you sit there
Fidgeting and trying to get other things on your mind.
It’s taking a hydroxyzine
To stop the mountain from forming
But it finds a way to inch up toward the sky
Getting bigger and more intimidating to face
It’s sitting in therapy
Embarrassed as the therapist passes a box of tissues.
Explaining through the tears that the world is going to end.
And understanding that it is the most insignificant problem
The mole hill has become a mountain
And you are trying to climb over the mountain
Getting to the top and looking over the edge
You lose your balance and fall
Right into the pit of nothingness.
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