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August 19, 2013
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I wonder to myself
as often as fear for myself
that they can smell it.
My burning inadequacy
and my fear, quivering
like a bow-string drawn
too tight,

If they can feel the
brittle reverberations
of my hollowed bones.

In moments like these,
I wonder if they listen
as I hate myself.
I wonder how they must see me.
Although I comfort myself
that they can’t think any
less of me than I do.

After all, it’s true,
you’re your own worst critic,
for you shred the best.

However, granted,
you’re the one who has to
live with the results.
No one will
come and dig you out of
of the hole
they put you in.

You’re the coffin
for the frequent funerals
for other’s feeling.

At times I ponder
whether people can see their
faces in my eyes.
And if so,
are they as terrifying to them
as they are
to me.

I hope they cannot,
I am aware that they don’t
intend to scare me.

Just the same as I
don’t intend to be frightened
by their own voices.
I wonder if my anxiety
makes me cause anxiousness,
if I am terrifying
in my terror

When I consider
that their nightmares are not the
nightmares of my sleep.

When it’s said and done,
I believe our eyes reflect
each other’s visage.
That you scare me,
because deep down,
I’m afraid that I
scare you.

That by accident,
I create anxiety
by being anxious.

Maybe you’re lucky,
and you’re not afraid of me.
Maybe you’re happy.
Maybe you’d like to be friends,
and maybe you’re just waiting
to see that I want
to be friends too.

In which case, I do
But I cannot tell you this.
For I’m too afraid
As I approach the beginning of my first year at college, I'm finding that my social anxieties are becoming worse and worse. When anxious, I have a constant fear that others hate me, but at the same time realized that this is likely not the case. Unfortunately, despite being aware of my paranoia, this awareness is not strong enough to stop me from being paranoid.

This poem isn't intended to be a depiction of my current state of mind, it's just supposed to represent the cycle I find myself in when I let my anxieties control me as a way of understanding myself and helping myself to get back on track. I'm a very...Type A person (meaning that I like to have plans for situations) so I'm sure that once I actually arrive at college, and that the many unknowns looming above me become knowns (and therefore are able to be rationally evaluated and therefore much less frightening). I'm cycling right now. But I know I'm cycling. And I know my stressors will get better, and therefore I will stop. Therefore, I am already stopping. I feel better already.

As for the structure of this poem, this is a structured as a 7-line segment, followed by a three-lined haiku-style segment. However, if you examine the 7-line segments carefully, you'll notice that the first three lines follow the same haiku structure. Thus why I have it categorized as a fixed form, though I know of no form that exists in this fashion.
:iconsiochanna:
Siochanna Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2013   General Artist
I have felt all of those things.  I always want to retreat.  But I'm afraid of yielding too much ground, too.  It's a vicious cycle. 
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:iconsynesthi:
Synesthi Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2013
It's nice to know that someone else knows how I feel when I feel the most alone. Thank you. :)
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