Anxiety | Teen Ink


July 30, 2021
By Cucoolchameleon GOLD, Cincinnati, Ohio
Cucoolchameleon GOLD, Cincinnati, Ohio
19 articles 2 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
"There is no greater agony than an untold story within you" - Maya Angelou

The volcano does discriminate between day and night. 

Remnants of dreams flutter away as darkness surrounds you.

It could strike then, or wait till the sun’s false pretense of 

morning sanctuary arises, the warmth of the bedcovers, the soft

humming of your mother across the hall, the smell of coffee brewing. 

When it explodes, all semblances of safety are stripped away. 

The shield you’ve constructed, the armor you’ve fashioned, 

both quiver and collapse at the smoke’s mighty blow.

You gasp for air, but its ash-swathed gusts convolute your breath 

and scorch your lungs. You could cry for help, but your mind reels 

and screams, no one can help you! You’re all alone! 

You don’t want to believe it, but in all its essence it is you, 

and you cannot defy yourself. You listen for the sounds

of nature in the hope that something out there is existing through this, 

but the birds and the bees and the trees have been silenced 

by the roars of lightning and fire at the volcano’s heart. 

And you strain to recall the last words 

you spoke to your sister before this cataclysm befell you—

Quit b*tching Julia, give me the damn phone. 

A tear wobbles on the brink of your eyelid and you pray

for it to vanish in the heat, evaporate, fly up above your head 

and into the flames, but it hovers before your face like a crystal ball. 

Inside you see your sister, walking away, and your parents mouthing

words you don’t understand, and your brother laughing

but about what you can’t remember. 

The flames billow higher, darkening the day. 

You struggle to breathe. The ground beneath your feet

rumbles and cracks, needle-thin splinters of Earth sprawling 

out, a spiderweb of broken pieces that reflect your own heart. 

You grapple to find solid ground, but fail. The floor gives way and 

you fall. You fall. You always fall. 

But the falling doesn’t last forever. You land. 

The volcano’s rage dwindles, becomes docile. It ends. 

It always ends. 

The author's comments:

Anxiety has always been something I struggle with. Learning how to channel my emotions into a peice of art, a peice of writing, has been invaluable to me. 

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This article has 1 comment.

on Aug. 5 2021 at 9:08 pm
SparrowSun ELITE, X, Vermont
201 articles 23 photos 1052 comments

Favorite Quote:
"It Will Be Good." (complicated semi-spiritual emotional story.)

"Upon his bench the pieces lay
As if an artwork on display
Of gears and hands
And wire-thin bands
That glisten in dim candle play." -Janice T., Clockwork[love that poem, dont know why, im not steampunk]

my gramma has anxiety, we havnt seen her in years bc its to stressful for her to come out.