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Anxiety

I don't understand why my brain
enjoys putting itself under so much strain.
The stress of it all makes me insane
and it feels like there's no escaping this lane.

I go round and round in my mind
because no matter how much, I find
that I can't stop thinking about it.
I'm threatened and concerned that I just don't fit.

Every day, I sit at my desk
trying to sort out this or that mess
without much of a pause and very few breaks,
all because I'm worried that we've made mistakes,

And it's all going to come back on me,
Even if it's not my responsibility.
I just want to run, get out of here.
But I can't. There's just so much to fear.

My job's on the line. My happiness. My security.
The fact that my family's depending on me.
That's why I take 15 milligrams of Lexapro,
so my mood is stable, and you don't have to know.

I'm sick of it. Heart, mind, and soul.
I long for the day that I can feel whole.
So stop telling me that we can't reach our goals,
that it's all for nothing, and heads will roll.

I've got enough on my plate. And I don't want to be
this jerk, this animal who is loathe to see
the smiles on my friends faces as they work just as much
as I do. I don't want to feel out of touch.

So round and round I go, within my own head.
These feelings of fear, stress, and dread
that I'm just not cut out for it despite
knowing that everything is actually alright.


It's been a very tough week. We're under pressure to deliver a world-class experience for our customers and our colleagues, and I'm just stressing about whether or not we're going to make it.

And I'm becoming a bit of a jerk about it. Yes, I realize it. And yet, all I can feel is that something or someone is out to expose me for failing to live up to expectations.

So I took the day off today. And on my way back home, I was inspired to write a poem. I don't know why. I haven't written a poem since Middle School. So i do't care if it's good or not. But I feel better now that I've expressed myself. I hope it explains what I'm going through.