A New Month, Another Anxiety Attack

In a mid-lit room, I sit. the sounds of the world ending haunt me and call for me outside of my window.
“They’re here,” a part of me yells. “This is the end, now; we’re not nearly prepared!“
I sit, shaking, telling myself it will be fine.
It’s all fine.
~~//~~~___!!~\~~~~
The winds howl and I whimper. “You’re not here!” I shout, aiming my words both at the howls I hate, and the one person I want near who isn’t here.
The laptop is in front of you – use it to your advantage, my body cries out. I type the URLs of video streaming websites into the search bar, but nothing loads.
This. Is. Fine.
I repeat those three words while my brain is screaming, body is shaking, vocals are breaking.
The winds whistles and howl at me, demanding my attention; the rain no longer treating me as a calm friend and storms its way upon my abode. There are no pleasantries here – only unforgiving anger.
I’m still wearing my lover’s shirt – the one I stole a few nights ago. “Perhaps,” my brain mutters, “if I cannot have him to hold in these times, I should simply indulge myself in his scent, once more?
I draw an area that’s least been contaminated with my own stench towards my nostrils and  b r e a t h  deep, inhaling the small comfort I can afford at this hour.
~~~/!~~_\~~’~~!__~;~~;
The winds screech and haunt.
A high pitched squeal leaves me.
“Time for social media, perhaps? That tends to prove as a good distraction.” I grab my phone, play some music, and open an app unto which I could browse the lives of others I had little interest for. And there she is. The one person I’d ever learnt to hate; picture after unholy picture.
My skin begins to crawl.
Oh no.
I know this feeling all too well.
Please, no, not now. I thought I was finally over this choking feeling.
My breath is short and erratic, reaching for oxygen that refused to help. My hands shake inexcusably, and my right arm uncontrollably begins to repeatedly crash against the bed, hitting my leg in the process. The storm is not over, and another is already brewing inside of my lungs, dragging my body into a broken intoxication of fear and self hatred.

2 thoughts on “A New Month, Another Anxiety Attack

  1. Loved the use of the storm to convey emotion 🙂 that kind of pathetic falacy is always good. it sounded like a pretty painful time for you so well done in conveying it.
    I also really liked the use of italics, spacing and keyboard symbols to convey parts of the poem.

    The overall feeling i got from the end of this was a guilty kind of hopelessness, ive known that feeling and its one that resonates with anyone dealing with any kind of addiction. Perhaps if this feeling hit them too then this piece could let them know that they arent alone. That is the greatest ambition i think in much of writing.

    (Some negative crit here, nothing major but i thought i’d warn you becuase i’m critequeing sensitive content. Plus sometimes i only want positive stuff, and thats ok.)
    One thing i noticed was that the pacing was quite fast in terms of emotion, there was no pause where you could thouroughly explore the feelings, i know this probubly sounds a bit vauge but do you know what i mean? Maybe it needs more polish so you can add extra content where it is needed to slow the pace down a bit?

    Another thing is that from the very beginning it was difficult to decern where you were, theres a computer but also a window, so you could be in collage, or in your bed? Then i realised it was definitely somewhere safe but it might of been better to state this from the begining in some way, perhaps through description. i think this is important becuase certain places have different tones and knowing the atmosphere of your location can improve a piece.

    Sorry btw I know this was a really long comment but its just cos i was thinking about it so much trying to come up with decent critique XD

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, I really appreciate the feedback! I get what you mean about the pacing – I don’t quite know how I would want to polish it, though, as I like that the pacing keeps up with the mentioned storm and brews something uncomfortable inside the reader. I can understand why you wouldn’t like this, though.
      As for the other comment, I purposefully said “my window” at the end of the first paragraph / second sentence to give it that personal touch, so you can assume it’s set at home. Do you think I was too vague with it, though?

      Like

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