Feeling (lost)

Part 6 of a 9 part poem.

This is the sixth part of a poem I began writing while starting medication for the first time, treating depression and anxiety. The first try was not the right fit for me and drove me deeper into the dark. It's not until later on that things began looking up.

The compellation of these nine poems I've titled, Becoming (Me).

---

Suddenly I freeze.

I feel alone.

Isolated.

Trapped by a overwhelming sense of

Responsibility.

There’s so much I need to do.

But it’s not a lot at all.

I’m looking for free.

No cost.

Help.

But there’s none.

Money means parents.

And parents mean talking.

And talking means…

Fear.

Always asking.

Always taking.

Dependant.

My only choice is.

Stop.

Stop feeling.

Stop searching.

Stop being.

Pretend.

Again.

Everything is okay.

I’ll be ok.

But I won’t.

This is the end and beginning.

Another cycle.

Tricking myself into feeling better.

Not needing help.

On my own.

Suppressing the need to cry.

To scream.

To call out for help.

Just breathe.

Stretch.

Send the thoughts away.

Go back to pretending.

Empty out the emotions.

The bad thoughts.

Become a husk.

Go back to how I was.

I don’t know how to ask for help.

I don’t know what help I need.

So what do I say?

What do I feel?

What do I do?

I feel lost.

Stuck in place.

I was moving forward before,

But now…

Nothing.

Still.

Silent.

Helpless.

Lost.