i am a bomb. and it’s only so long before i go off. because i can’t breathe. and i know that there is no certainty, but goddamit. i just want one tiny shred of predictability. i want to know i’m okay. i want to not think about myself this way. but how do i do that when the clouds roar? and the pent-up lightning crackles above me? and safety is always just out of sight little girl don’t try to run from me? and i’m soaking wet. and i can’t breathe, as i look up at the sky, and wonder how long i have before the darkness finds me. i am a bomb. and it’s really just a matter of when i’ll go off. and i am drowning. and i am standing in the mirror, brushing out my hair. except i keep going. and i keep going. and it hurts but i keep going. because i’ll never be pretty. because little girl, why are you so ugly? i am crying on the kitchen floor screaming get away from me. and maybe you want me to end this hopefully, but i don’t know what to say. because i don’t feel like happy endings today.
i wrote this free-write poem on a really bad day, attempting to describe the feeling of a panic attack–or maybe not even a panic attack, just panic in general over something that has just been really bugging me of late. it’s short–but i hope it means something to you anyway.