disclaimer: i know pretty much nothing about anxiety medication. none of this is proven scientific fact, please do not take this as medical advice in any way, because it’s not. i am not a doctor or any kind of trained professional. this poem is just my worries and emotions regarding a change in my life that i really needed to get out of me.
trigger warning: mention of self-harm, super-anxious thoughts, being paranoid, feelings of loneliness, and obviously the whole poem is about medication, and also there is swearing, and being really insecure and desperate to be loved, and not fitting into your family
if i go on medication, will life always be easy? i don’t want it to be easy. although i do want it to be easy, because it hurts enough already. but if it were easy, then there would be nothing to write about, and that scares me. writing is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me emotionally and the worst thing that has happened to me financially. does that matter? if i think it does matter, will you no longer like me? // because. let me tell you a couple things about this heart i live inside: it does not accept like. it does not accept good enough. it can move mountains if it’s willing to give this thing its all. but honestly, the main reason i am still a mess is because every day, i wake up. and every day i’m given the option of curling up in bed or throwing open the curtains for the first time in my life. and i try my best to choose both. it doesn’t work well, though. i want more than this. // if i go on medication, what will i write? what will i say, when the blood in my veins is not overflowing out of me onto this page? will it ever stop overflowing out of me onto this page? am i even hardwired to be happy for long periods of time? // if i go on medication will the chemicals be in control of my brain? because this is my body, fuck off it’s mine, don’t say you can control me. you do not get to control me. // and. what if the chemicals poison me? because i’ve heard chemicals can poison me. i’ve heard companies do not care about the people taking their pills it is just for the money. // if i go on medication, will i be less of a person? will i be somehow admitting to my broken? will you hate me? // if i go on medication, will the roaring fire of creativity and determination suddenly. flicker. out on me. because i will burn myself alive in that fire before i let that happen to me. // if i go on medication, will i discover i’m not the person i thought i’d be? // if i go on medication, will this become the new ugly secret i tuck into the bottom of my pocket and try my best to run with? // if i go on medication, will my feelings no longer be there inside me? will my world crumple, because it’s all made of chemicals anyway, and nothing’s real anyway, and it’s fine it’s ok just breathe. logic says your breaths are insignificant. logic says your life does not matter and is there worth living. oh my god, i am doing it again. my point is, if i go on medication, will everything come crashing down on me? // if i go on medication, will i still be in control of the way i breathe? // if i go on medication, will you hate me? // if i go on medication, will be soul be smudged and dirty? // if i go on medication, will i no longer belong to this family because i asked for help when i needed it rather than nodding and smiling and suffering in silence holding up the solar system on my shoulders running until my body crumples and i remember i am made of broken origami? because i am not fucking like the people in this family. i do not resemble my parents, not even physically. i am the chubby to their skinny. i am the soft to their sharp cynical and angry. and sometimes, i think that’s a good thing, because i’m honestly not sure anyone in my family has ever been happy. but if you won’t love me, i don’t want to be happy. just tell me what i have to do to make your proud, world. just tell me what would make you happy. // except i don’t want to make you happy. i have watched people die before, whether it be by alzheimer’s or cancer. i have been there, as lives have slipped away like drops of water out of a leaking faucet. and i do not fucking want to waste my life that way, and i am not yours. despite the wilting self-doubt in my chest, you do not get to dull the colours of my life or my heartbeat, i have been down this road before, i do not care if you are a stranger on the street or my long-lost twin sister. i will force myself not to care. i will cut off the part of me that is so desperate for love and attention that it will take anything, even if that anything is hurting me. // i will not give in, i will not give in, i will close my eyes and breathe and every morning i will try my best to put on imaginary armour so every time you tell me writing is a waste of my life, i don’t hear anything, i will walk with makeshift crutches i will be numb being numb is not healthy breathe. except right now the only breaths that come out are the gasping ones as i run outside into the backyard when the sky is dark and start punching myself, like if i punch hard enough the poison in my head called anxiety will put its hands up and surrender my body. except it doesn’t. obviously. // if i go on medication, will i die earlier? will the chemicals cause cancer? will the chemicals be bad for me? // if i go on medication, will the side-effects be paralyzing? // if i go on medication, will the sky crack open? // if i go on medication, will i be addicted? i don’t want to be addicted, i am addicted to enough of my unhealthy coping mechanisms already. // if i go on medication, will i be dependent? // if i go on medication, will i still be human?
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