Tell me there’ll be a day when I’m not suffering from anxiety.
Tell me there’ll come a time when I’m over it, like a cold or a stomach bug and I’m not throwing up feelings in my chest that don’t make sense. I want to explode, implode, burst into flame. I want to curl into a soft, space place. I want to run away. Anything that makes it stop, stop stop.
I want to see the end of this fear. Fear of nothing, fear of everything. I’m waiting for all this help to help. To step on the support of others and find myself in the rafters.
I want to hold your hand. I want to hold you, and it’s just me. All me. All present. No deep dark thoughts or anxious whispers or terrible visions. I just want to be with you, and be ok. I just need to be ok, and believe it.
Tell me until I believe it.