Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Attack

My attacks are silent
Stealthy
They sneak up on me
Everyone around me
And they kill the things at had been going
So
Damn
Well
I backslide and make people cry.
I am never a fucking Molotov cocktail.
No, no I am much worse
I'm an A-bomb
Perhaps a small one,
But still deadly and sinful and wrong.
And this is because I bottle it up
I don't tell people what's going on because when I have they didn't listen
Didn't care
Didn't help.
Just let me blame them.
But the thing is, 
I think when people hear 'anxiety attack'
They think 'panic attack'
But I do not regress entirely into my head,
And I do not scream,
And when I cry it's silent.
No, I can hear you,
I just can't listen,
Because your words don't mean anything to me.
They are your pleas for me to be normal,
When I am not normal because of your pleas.
And I want to scream,
But my vocal chords are folding in on themselves and I can't always take full breaths,
Much less try to talk.
And I no longer make noise when I cry,
Because it makes me feel weak and out of control
And I don't have a lot of control anymore.
At least, it feels that way.
So these are my words to people who don't understand:
Let me be,
Because you should have listened eons ago,
And now when I'm silent and listening to my heart beat in my throat,
I am thinking only about the creative ways I would get you to shut up.
99.9% of the time they do not involve kissing.
I am thinking of what I would pack if I ran away.
Of how death would affect the people around me.
If death would affect the people around me.
So leave me alone, because every time you don't,
I take another step towards the abyss.

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