Sealed in a Smile
You fucked me up.
I was just a babe.
I felt fear no matter what —
Constricted in a python grip of anxiety,
I couldn’t breathe, but kept a smile on my face.
I fooled everyone, including myself.
I ran, danced, bootcamped it away.
Needles pricked my skin in acupuncture.
I took drugs, tried vitamins, went off “the pill,” drank.
I consumed consciously.
I left to eat, pray, love it away.
I restricted screens and phone calls.
I meditated, practiced peace.
I was quiet.
I learned of philosophies and spiritualities.
I read books, watched TED Talks, tried affirmations.
I isolated; I went out.
I binged.
I performed in costumes and makeup with
Bright lights and performance highs.
I looked for it in fairytales,
Yet never finding my prince.
I relentlessly went to therapy,
For four long years of torture —
Death would’ve been easier.
And here I am, at it again.
I lost people, I gained people.
Nothing worked for long.
I felt like Sisyphus —
Every morning,
Exhausted, defeated, hopeless,
But stubborn.
Anxiety’s grip prevailed.
I cried in bathroom stalls,
I shivered and shook,
Without clear reason, and
Fearful that I’d not stop.
The inexplicable pain —
Never — — ending.
It was deep, deep, deep inside.
How do I get it out?
Now I get peace from a pill —
A relief of release.
I can breathe.
Few things scare me —
Cancer eating away at my bones and organs, starting from the inside going out.
Repressed memories of violence terrorizing my sensitive heart.
Relying on pills for happiness.
Yet, I don’t mind succumbing —
Even for a little while.
Let me sleep just a little longer,
In this dream of comfort.
