Sometimes my anxiety feels like a separate being
Like a ghost that lives inside my body
Like an inky black horror movie level chunk of ‘get out of me’
I want to punch a hole and rip it out
Tie me down and exorcise me
Carve me open and pull it out
I want this haunting to be over and the credits to roll
I want to move on and live a shaky survivor’s happily ever after
Or is this a fairytale?
What do I have to do to break this curse?
Love hard enough? Guess the magic word?
But, no
My life is a horror movie
There is no Prince Charming coming to wake me from this nightmare
Just a monster curling itself tightly inside me
Waiting for its opportunity to create more fear
I mean, the scariest monsters are the ones you can’t see, right?
And how do you run when it’s yourself you’re running from?
But giving up isn’t an option
Giving up will mean that this ghost inside me
This all-consuming poison
This — this blackness filling in my empty spaces
Giving up means getting swallowed whole
And for now
Running from myself
Is better
Than losing myself
Because I may share my body with a ghost
But I am not one myself.




Rachel WaringRachel Waring is a sophomore at Christopher Newport University. She is studying for her Bachelor’s Degree in Communication Studies and a minor in Philosophy and Religious Studies.

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