Thought.

Talking in circles, I am dizzy and my head is spinning. I have been looking for something to pass the time, a pair of lips to kiss, a hand to hold, a face to memorize, but I am coming up short and leaving myself with nothing more than blisters covering the pads of my dry fingertips, the ones I have bitten down to practically nothing through this anxiety and stress and

“I look at you sometimes and you look like your thoughts are miles off,” he told me and I brushed hair out of my eyes and assured him that this was simply not the time to make accurate judgments. He believed me. 

My eyes hurt. I can’t open them wide enough to see light. My hands shook for thirty minutes last night and I couldn't breathe, I was ready to tear my chest into pieces and let my lungs loose so that they could find room to suction air on the floor. I swear to god, I haven’t had anxiety this bad since I got off that medication. Instead I just sat in the back and watched the second hand on the clock slow down more and more until my skin was crawling. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and was surprised when I didn't throw up in the sink.