What are you looking at?
I can’t think.
My hair itches, I’m nervous
Why is everyone staring at me???
I came to this function
I wanted to be here
I put it on my calendar and told everyone on Facebook that I was coming
And here I am
running to hide in the bathroom.
I stay a while.
I finally work up the courage to return to the people
and I laugh and I smile
and I smile and I laugh
and so far, no one has questioned me about why I keep fidgeting
and trembling about
and scratching my damn hair
maybe no one has noticed
maybe I am the only one who can tell
I leave the party
and the next day, I go to work
the phones are ringing and I am terrified to answer
people are walking in and I am at the front desk
why did I choose a front desk job?
I can’t do this
Lord, please help me
I go home
and my boyfriend says, “relax.”
This idiot has no idea
but then I feel bad,
he’s just trying to help
I wish that I could help myself…
the only things that I can do
to help ease my pain
is write this poem,
and maybe, pray
and hope that tomorrow be a better day
because I know the time will come again
when the walls begin to close in on me
and I can’t breathe
and I might want to leave the party
and quit my job
and dump my man
because running to the bathroom to hide from my social anxiety will feel so much better
but I can’t
I refuse to let this shit win.
I want to pull all my hair out
but I won’t…