Dear... My Anxiety
When I look at my reflection, I see a face that sees me, over and over again: glossed-over eyes and a mouth turned in disdain. I try to imagine the versions of me who didn't fall into the mirror to find the girl who would actually immerse herself in her own life. I wish I could feel like myself again, which is why I wish you didn't exist. I wish I could tear you away from me as violently as you have invaded my life. Every tepid smile, every moment I hesitate to speak up, every comparison to someone better than me is you, at the heart of my inabilities.
Oh, but why bother
a life that wasn't lived anyway is impossible to really lose
I think of the friends I could have had
and the memories I missed out on
the moments I let go so I don't need to confront you.
It hurts so bad to be lonely.
I wish I didn't turn out the way I did, because I know it was all my fault anyway. It wasn't always you. But was it always me? How much of me is you, and is that who I am at my core?
I don't like to think about it hard; I'm not an overthinker. Just maybe distracted from what matters.