If I had a dollar for every time someone has told me,
"You have to learn to let things go,"
maybe I could afford the kind of intensive therapy
I'd need to learn how to do just that.
I could also afford to ditch the job
responsible for 70% of said stress
and maybe finally work up the courage
to enroll in college
and pursue the job of my dreams
which has always been hindered by
the looming threat
the insatiable debt
some call, "student loans".
But there's something that, maybe, you didn't know about me:
there's this thing called Anxiety
that writes in my stomach
and tangles up my thoughts
and makes doing all of those things
nearly impossible.
Telling me to just, "leave your problems at home"
is like telling Dom Toretto to "just drive the speed limit".
I can't.
Believe me, I've tried.
My heart races faster than light,
drifts around the corners,
runs all the red lights
and tells me its heavy foot
is all my fault
and that we're gonna end up in prison
for all the speeding tickets
we haven't even gotten yet.
Extreme, I know.
I know that I won't be seen as a bad employee
for showing up to work ten minutes late because
my car wouldn't start
so I had to use my mother's
and then I ran into traffic
and then I hit
every
single
red
light
on the way there
so much for running them, right?
and I know that I won't be fired
for leaving work
two hours early
that very same day
because my work was finished
before I even showed up
and there was nothing for me to do.
I know my boyfriend won't hate me
for being stuck in this
endless cycle
of downward spirals
of feeling helpless
and hopeless
and constantly telling him
I do so.
And I know my parents don't think
I'm a bad daughter
for not cleaning the entire house
top to bottom
before they returned from
their long Kentucky weekend
but the little devil on my shoulder
stabs me in the eyes
with his pitchfork every time
I deny it, because
"You know that's a lie
and they'll leave you behind."
So now, my tears are running red
as all these thoughts
flash through my head
and I will scream this
as loud as I can
until you finally understand
that no,
there is only one please
my anxiety cannot
will not
follow me,
because you know
what they say:
You can't take it with you.
"Running Red Lights" is an old prosey piece that didn't make it into Flames Speak. But that doesn't mean it can't be shared. Don't forget to check out Flames Speak and leave it a review on Amazon!
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