A silverfish through pages greased by sweat

and dirty fingers

lingering nowhere too long

the throng milling and gyrating

hydrating on beer that tastes and smells

like piss

bliss carved on every face and every fat

girl is a succubus transformed by holy

liquor

darting in and out so no one kicks her

as limbs flash and bodies bounce

on the dance floor

slips through the group to find shore

called a whore for escaping groping hands

can't stand to see where they may go

the world slow and measured in heartbeats

music repeats

noise to drown out more noise

poised on the edges and trying to breathe

above the chanting

incanting

summoning lust and thrusting hips in arcane

jubilee

a spree of tongues wagging

clothes sagging

falling to the ground in dark corners for a

dose of debauchery

flashing by in colors and lights and too much

sound

pounding in her head

scattering thought

casting out reason

cleaving off the pieces of precious personal

space until not a trace

is left behind

a stranger grinds off a leg like a dog violating

an angular pillow

his breath full of vomit as she swallows bile

gives a smile

all teeth

false guile to cover goosebumps and a chill

there's no thrill

drowning in the sea

in spittle as foam over waves of drunken joy

dicks ahoy through skinny jeans

it's not the fucking morals

not by judgement nor condescension

but the tension in her shoulders

at each brush

a rush of panic at each manic motion

emotion: terrified

magnified by staring eyes

tries to fit and feel the high

but it's not the right wavelength

doesn't have the strength to get up there

wherever they've ascended or descended

not up to par

just as they are

a rabbit in need of escape

from sleek and lovely foxes

leaping outside boxes she's found she

desperately needs

speeds away

can't stay in the color and the light

a silverfish through pages greased by sweat

stuck in the wrong novel

It makes your skin feel like cage. You're stuck in it, but there's no means of escaping. There's no calm inside you. There's always a feeling of pent up emotions right in your sternum.

You want to just escape your body because you can't stand it anymore. You want to rip your skin apart and burst from the gouges.

Something's wrong all the time, but you can't tell what it is. But it's always there- that thought.

Everything feels extreme. Taking out the trash feels like life or death and doing the dishes is unbearable. You're always stuck with the feeling and thoughts of impending doom.

Worst of all, you feel limited.

Sonia can't move.

She breathes so deep and so fast I fully expect her head will explode

She shakes and buries her head in her hands

Tears roll down her face but she is silent

Heaving breaths, no words

Silently dying, I fear

When words finally escape her trembling mouth they shake harder than her hands

She scream-whispers

"I

can't

breathe"

I think she's dying. She must be dying.

Laura lashes out

Screaming expletives at everyone

Everything

LEAVE ME ALONE

But alone is a gift she abuses

With razors and glass shards

Leaving her alone is a death sentence

She runs outside into sunshine

Rays of gold glisten on her hair

But she does not feel the warmth of God

Telling her there's nothing to fear in sunshine;

She feels golden fire burning her skin

She is exposed to the elements

She is a sinner in the spotlight

And she breaks right in front of us,

Screaming in a pain we know is only in her head

We can't help her.

I can't help her.

And that is the worst pain of all.

11.48 pm. age 10. day unknown.

fear swoops up and engulfs me, suddenly a solid and tangible thing that slams my body up and out of bed, head pounding like a wave crashing and i'm drowning and help...

"m-mom..."

i had traveled through the whole dark house for this. for her to be asleep.

"mom--"

"what?? oh..."

"something's wrong. i can't sleep. something...something, i mean, it's...i'm freaking out and i wanna cry for no reason."

"it's okay sweetie, you're okay. i'll take you back to bed."

we walk silently through the house that doesn't seem so dark anymore. thank god she's so forgiving. other parents, no way. like my dad. he would never help me like that. the best he can do is stay out of it, and i want to keep it that way.

- - - -

12.53 pm. age 14. market day.

"Hey wait--"

I cut myself off as my friends walk ahead of me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I decide it's useless to care. Walk tall, head up. Pretend you're fine.

"Hey," I say to my closest friend. Whatever. I'm a ghost.

Try again.

"I'm going to a concert with my cousin in October and--"

"Ooo, which one?"

"Twenty one pilots."

"Ahhh! You know I'm going to Fall Out Boy also."

"Really?"

"Yeah, with my friend from school."

"Oh. When?"

"Next month."

Whatever. It's not like I took her to a concert last year and she didn't thank me, or anything.

I don't say that, though.

I want to, but I don't. I'm shutting up, that number one rule in the book I read.

Why am I such a nerd.

We approach a large, bustling group of EW. People I know. Well, I know them, but of course they don't know I exist.

Count off.

The quarterback-- eye roll.

Nasty girl-- yuck, no.

Her ex (actually, who knows what they're doing?)-- barf. I'll be expected to like him in high school.

The Californian-- oh. I didn't know he was here. But, overrated.

Basic crowd of worshipping friends-- stab me with a spork.

And the funny thing is?

Each one of my own friends goes off talking to one of them, leaving me a few feet away with a look of pure fear and disgust on my face.

Too bad no one is talking to me.

Because I'm not talking to any of them.

- - - -

4:16 pm. age 14. market day.

"EXTERMINATE. EXTERMINATE."

"There's the ringtone," my newest friend in a Dalek shirt says, pulling out his iPhone. My other newest friend smiles. In the last few hours I've discovered their love for Doctor Who, my love for the two of them, and our ability as a group to eat a pound of curly fries.

"How do you say it? Is it 'daahh-leks,' or 'da-lix?' Because I think 10 says it the first way and 11 says it the second way, but I don't know.."

For a supposedly popular girl, she's quite active in the fandom. And it's not like I didn't know either of them before. It's just now that we're all being introduced, now that the glue is gone. The glue, meaning the group of people we all were connected by. But now we're connected by ourselves. I look up at the sky.

I think they fixed me.

Would he like this

Do it over because you fucked up but even when you do it over its still fucked up because you can't fix it because you're you.

Trying over..

Because I must be

Better

Stronger

Wiser

Different

Not me

Because who would want to be around someone like you with the way you

Explosive

My mind races

But you won't give up because then you fail

But when you try you fail to

But

You're going to continue to try with that ounce of faith that you might succeed

But why do you think like that

And look like that

And quit thinking

But you need to be doing more because you're doing nothing it's not enough

Never enough so

Get up you fuck up

You'll make it

Eventually

Right?

Give me a guide to follow

Something standered and common

The thing everybody was born with.

Except for me.

The thing I'm missing is tangible

I know what it should feel like

to be able to not feel like puking all the time.

I know it's normal to not cry all the time,

To be able to sleep through the night,

And only sweat when with fever,

And to only shake when cold.

I know that I'm supposed to

Be able to calm down.

Instead I'm always on the edge waiting

For a thoughtless gesture or word

To blow me over

Crash on the the rocks below

And lie still.

Anxiety is

One thing I don't experience

Maybe once or twice in a lifetime will it appear

Anxiety is

Something I pretend to feel

I know how to do it from books

The cliche clutching of hands, nervous ticks, or sweating

Anxiety is

Nothing to me

Performances and lectures and singing in public?

Not anxiety and never anxiety

Anxiety

Is something that doesn't exist for me

And may never will

I crack my knuckles.

I bite my nails.

I stare into space.

I get headaches.

I throw up.

I black out.

I can't think straight.

I have racing thoughts.

I stutter.

I flinch.

I don't remember a thing.

I act quiet.

I try to disappear.

I wish I was someone else.

I pull at my hair.

I use muscle memory.

I tense up.

I can barely breathe.

I am not me.