Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If only I was their normal,

If only I didn’t have anxiety.

There would be tons of people

in my life, a large variety.

But the clock keeps ticking.

My time is running out.

Don’t talk to me,

I’m scared I’ll shout.

Don’t treat me like

the monster we both know I am.

Don’t continue to

talk to this scared little lamb.

I’m out of my mind,

I’m trying to undestand.

What is happening to me?

I don’t like to demand.

Your

time

is

running

out.

Ever wonder what goes on

inside the mind of an anxious person?

I’m never telling you,

because, if I do, it worsens.

Am I going to die?

What could I even die of?

Embarrassment? Bad weather?

Heart attack? Lack of love?

I’m struggling to breathe.

I

**am**

going

to

_die._

Sometimes, I wonder.

If I am,

oh,

if only.