It’s like a film over a window so u can’t see clearly.
The party pooper that always shows up
The adrenaline rush you didn’t ask for
Everything becomes an emotional chore. Everything is a big deal.
Washing the dishes, going to the grocery store, calling a friend
For “normals” it doesn’t take a second thought, for us we’re lucky there is not a third or fourth thought.
Over analyze is our middle name
I am over analyzing this poem right now
I am anxious to finish this poem
Is it good? Good enough? Am I good enough? I did something wrong, I shouldn’t have said that, no yes….explosion.
Heart pounding, breath leaving, sounds sharper, thoughts racing, I’m dying
Out of control. Panic.