I’m so tired but I can’t sleep. Ghosts are ripping my chest apart. I breathe deep but find no breath. I focus on what I know to be true. It is true that there is nothing wrong. I take another breath. It is true that it is time to go to bed. I breathe again. It is true that I may suffocate in my sleep if I am not able to gain breath when I breathe. The mind is lost again. I can hear my heart in my eyes. They shake behind the lids as my heart tries to gain rhythm.
I get up and walk to the kitchen to gain perspective. It is true that this anxiety in my chest is not my fault or anyone else’s. It is true that I was so afraid of not being able to tap into the one chance I had at being good at anything, that I stopped taking the only thing that made me good.
I cry tears that aren’t mine. They are a symptom of selfishness and hope. They flow without my consent and laugh, as my face grows hot. I am a prisoner of my mind and grow weaker in my cell.