Dear Social Anxiety,
You make me question.
You make me doubt.
You make me tug on my clothes,
And smooth out my hair because
You are worried I do not
Look good enough.
You tell me I’m stupid, alone, and –
Unwanted. Tell me that my life isn’t “good”
Haunt me with all the things that COULD,
Have been; that WOULD have been,
Had I been more loud, more pretty,
More wanted.
So even when I am wanted,
You cover those loving, friendly, hands
That reach for me; who see me!
In black tar, until
They are unrecognizable.
So I can only feel the rough--
Hardened grasp,
Of those hands in mine.
You follow me,
You’re always there,
As I struggle through conversations, hellos,
And have a good day!
Always recounting how stupid;
how boring the things are
That I say.
I can’t mute you,
I can’t tell on you.
Even when I am strong
You are stronger.
Because we share the same skin.
See through the same eyes.
And I know that
As long as you’re
Winning,
I will never
Be able
to thrive.