Creeping, hidden fears,
My anxiety quickens,
My heart runs miles.
Is someone following me?
You are paranoid, my dear.
Dark, rainy nights,
The winds blow,
The lights blurry,
The streets are too quiet.
You are not safe, my dear.
Crunchy autumn leaves,
Freezing swirls of freshness,
Life disappears from their eyes.
Go home, my dear.
Who am I?
I sought to find out what's wrong with me.
Internal battles and depersonalized feelings,
I don't feel real.
Ever since adolescence,
I questioned my very existence, my purpose.
I might ask myself, "Who am I?"
I can't remember much, is my body protecting me?
Can I be saved? Do I long for protection and a savior?
One does not exist.
People laugh, but I look at my reflection as if I were a stranger.
I can't remember my own appearance until I look in the mirror.
Who am I?
I feel haunted and not by any spirits. I feel haunted by things I could have said and things I could have done. My brain repeats events over and over until I can't bear to think about them anymore. Why am I so fixated on the past? Why can't I move on? Something is holding me back, but I don't know anymore.
There are times and times again when we feel down like the world is against us. These are times when we have to fight back. This time, I forced myself to fight back against my low mood and lack of motivation. Now I feel like I can finally be released from the shackles of depression and focus on my writing.