I’m sorry for what my anxiousness makes me do. And I would like you to know that it’s not me, it’s my anxiousness. It’s not me, it’s the chemical imbalance in my mind. It’s not who I’m absolutely, it’s only a piece of me.
Anxiety makes me speak too quick or in no way. It makes me keep up too late and toss and switch till it’s three am and my thoughts remains to be operating a marathon. Anxiety makes me have darkish circles below my eyes that not even a $30 greenback concealer can fight them. It makes my eyes burn within the morning when I’m wanting up on the solar making an attempt to shake away the exhaustion. It makes me fucking drained.
I’m sorry for what my anxiousness makes me do. And you have to know that it’s not me. It’s not who I’m or who I need to be. It’s anxiousness.
Anxiety makes me need to go nonstop. It makes me gogogo till I run out of steam. Anxiety makes me break time and again. It makes me say issues I shouldn’t say. It makes me spill secrets and techniques that shouldn’t have been shared to be. It makes me speak behind individuals’s again, hissing at another person’s character, simply to really feel a bit extra alive.
Anxiety turns me into somebody I don’t need to be.
Anxiety makes me lose mates. It makes me paranoid that noone really loves me. It makes me cancel on dates as a result of I’m afraid of silence. It makes my arms shake for no purpose. It makes me suppose I’m going mad.
Anxiety makes me keep inside when the climate is vibrant and exquisite. It makes me not exit with family and friends even after I actually need to. It makes me take a capsule each single morning, to fight the demons in my thoughts.
Anxiety makes me suppose the worst issues about myself.
It says to me I’m not adequate. that I’m not robust sufficient. That I’ll all the time be alone. That I’ll all the time really feel like this. That my mates aren’t actually my true mates. That he by no means liked me. That I’ll by no means recover from him regardless of how a lot time has handed.
Anxiety turns me right into a darker model of myself. It turns me into an individual who stutters. Who can’t drink an excessive amount of espresso. Who’s afraid of affection. It makes me cancel and re plan. It makes me isolate myself from everybody I like. It makes me drained. It makes it so exhausting to breathe when all I need to do is breathe.
Anxiety makes me conceal my arms from individuals so that they don’t see my un manicured fingers. It makes me hate everybody and all the pieces. It makes me suppose that there is no such thing as a level in daylight. That there’s an excessive amount of darkness on the planet to even think about.
So I’m sorry for my anxiousness makes me do. I’m sorry for what my anxiousness tells me. I’m sorry for canceling. I’m sorry for the drunken texts. I’m sorry for the biting of my fingers till they bleed. I’m sorry for making an attempt to breathe. I’m sorry for speaking too quick to ensure that my mind to meet up with my ideas.
I’m sorry for pondering an excessive amount of. I’m sorry for not with the ability to shut it off. I’m sorry to my mind. I’m sorry you need to cope with this.
So that you see, anxiousness is at fault. Not me.