It’s yelling and screaming
And pulling my hair.
It’s clenching my fists so tight that my knuckles go white.
It’s slamming doors and throwing things.
It’s sitting in the rain because cold is a better feeling than panic.
It’s wanting to get everything done but not knowing where to start.
It’s saying I’m fine then going to my room and punching my pillows.
It’s not leaving my bed all day
And wishing I was invisible.
It’s wanting to be heard but not being able to speak.
And it’s numbness.
But it is all too familiar.
It’s knowing my thoughts are irrational
But believing them anyways.
It’s feeling out of control and being unable to settle down.
It’s feeling exhausted
But being unable to sleep.
It’s watching the same TV shows and movies because I know what’s going to happen.
It’s unseen but always felt.
It’s unpredictable; striking whenever it chooses.