The Rising Panic

Can you see the eyes?

Can you feel them?

The judgmental looks,

The mocking laughter.

Familiar terror.

Familiar memories.

Flashbacks.

Can you hear the laughter?

Can you hear the taunts?

Do you hear the bullies?

Can you feel the worthlessness,

Installed in you,

After years of bullying?

Standing in front of people,

Who watch your every move,

And judge your every word.

Looking down at you,

For your fear,

And pain,

That you can never quite make them understand.

It starts with the sweating palms,

And seeing people,

That aren’t there.

They haven’t been there in a long time.

It’s not real,

You tell yourself.

It’s not real.

They aren’t here.

No one will harm you.

Your mind rebels against you.

Telling you they’re there.

Convincing you they’re real.

Your entire body heats up.

It feels like you are on fire.

Hyperventilating.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

You try to stop the rising panic.

Gods,

I can feel their stares.

From far away,

You can hear someone asking,

“Are they okay?”

No.

No.

No.

no

It feels like death.

Grasping for air you cannot reach,

Reaching for a world you are not in.

On fire,

Sweating.

You feel tears building.

You open your mouth to speak.

Nothing comes out.

Tears begin to fall.

Panic rising.

You’re dying.

Someone says,

“You can do this.”

No.

No.

No.

no

they’re here

you can see them

You can feel yourself shaking your head.

Wiping away tears.

Whispering.

“I can’t... I’m sorry.”

Tears swell,

Blurring your vision.

You bolt.

Crying.

Sobbing.

Trying to banish the images.

Self-pity.

Self-loathing.

Gods,

You’re so weak.

Public speaking.

So many things about it,

That make me panic.

But I have improved.

I have made myself stronger,

By doing what I hate the most.

By doing what scares me the most.

I have to be honest.

I still think debate sucks.

But it has helped me a lot.

″What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”