If Anxiety Were Alive

Anxiety is the older chatty woman

who sits next to you on the plane.

She didn’t check any baggage,

or even bring a carry-on.

She only carries an agenda with names.

 

Anxiety talks over the flight attendant’s famous speech

just to talk at you.

She could care less about reminding you

to first put on your oxygen mask

And breathe

before helping anyone else.

 

Anxiety sits beside you

and isn’t shy about interrupting your book or postponing your nap.

She interviews you about your dreams and hopes,

only to respond with worst case scenarios.

She brags that she has made a living off of keeping people safe and comfortable.

 

Anxiety is the older chatty woman

Who sits next to you on the plane,

Whose words almost leave you with more baggage than you had before,

Whose words almost stop you from soaring off the ground,

Whose words almost convince you that the wings lifting you are not enough,

but she, anxiety, never succeeds at ending your journey.

 

With words that sound smart but hold nothing,

She only talks on and on.

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