I never quite fit in

The whole world is a stage, they say, and I seem to be the only one not given the script.

Everyone else has been cast, their roles defined, their lines memorized.

And I, alone, am but an impromptu player, a walk-on role, not even listed in the credits.


I’m Trying

I’m trying
Trying to fight the panic
The overwhelming feeling of dread
Dreading the waves of sadness
Of mourning
Mourning all that’s been
All that could’ve been
Acceptance slowly settles on top
On top of the ashes of mourning
Ashes that stay damp
Watered with my tears
Every day
But everyday
I’m trying
Trying to smile
Trying to smile and let the sunshine
Dry my tears
My tears of regret
But those regrets
Those ashes
Stay weighted down
Unable to float away
But I’m trying
Every day
I’m trying

Inside View to a PTSD Panic Attack

Don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want the past to cast it’s shadow on the future. Just stop pounding…. just stop pounding. Swallow. Breathe. Breathe. …

Swallow. Swallow. Breathe. Focus. Vision is clearing. Grayness is receding. Dull throb- left side- head hurts. Breathing shallow.

Focus on breathing. Keep breathing.


Do you have similar occurrences?
Feel the panic so thick in your throat that it chokes you?
Forget to breathe because of the emotional onslaught of no-longer-present voices?
Lose track of time until you suddenly consciously notice your breathing?
Find comfort in reminding yourself to keep breathing?
I cannot be the only one.

Inconsequential Paranoia

I heard them say ‘she’
They must mean me
Their lowered tones
That small circle of privacy

I try to be invisible
Not wanting forced civility
Unpleasant pleasantries
They clearly saw me

I’m sure they’ve heard about me
The crazy one who ran away
Took her kid and went someplace
Then returned
A rescued stray

Yeah, everyone knows my story
I don’t know who ‘everyone’ is
But they seem to know me
It’s unsettling
So now I assume I’m the ‘she’
In every story

How presumptuous
I see
As the ladies leave
Without ever once
Glancing at me