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Anxiety is watching a blur of cars, their tires gliding swiftly through damp roads,
Drifting -- away. The sound of the crossing delays them-- a moment to breathe; A random pause in their flow of movement. But moments later, they begin their smooth descent To the known, Their destination already decided. Silent tears, the only things that can escape you; A salty tasty of freedom against your lips, The only way of knowing your tears are real, And not just a river being washed from within you, Turning you into the puddle cars manoeuvre around, Or splash against, coating pedestrians with despair, Their own feel for what anxiety did to you. But anxiety is Being left behind; Watching life move without you. Anxiety is frozen, Knowing what to do, but disconnected from your ability to move, Wondering how your legs once caught up to them, A blunder in your memories. Anxiety, your mind a jittery hand You can’t control, Your dreams spilled onto a page But the pen, the key to your soul, Is Slowly Losing Ink Anxiety is the choked silence Frozen in your throat Lodged between fear and freedom. Nicole
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I’m waiting for my past-time, to be part-time, to be all mine.
I’m excited to watch the days fly by, not a care in the world. Right now they’re not mine. I’m ready to waste it, I’m ready to chase it, can’t fit in the moment But why should I care I’ve gotten over it, my future is glistening, but I’m stuck here. It’s a pity my emotions, creations, excitation are wasted on the wonders that aren’t here. Am I wrong to be excited for what to come; is it wrong for it to be the only thing I wanted? Am I wrong to want all the things unsure; is it wrong to be unhappy for the things I can control? Why does the me-now even matter, when she’s gone tomorrow morning? Why should I try? Even the world is trying to distract myself from “who am I right now?” - Jahannavi The wistful whispers of the ocean as it glistens in the moonlight
Subdued by the tranquil air and the silence that gently travels, Urge the pebble to edge further into the predictability Of the soft waves, finding safety in its delicate fluctuating motion Unlike the tumultuous waves that possess the angelic Body of water when the sun rises. The blue light is electric, reflecting and revitalizing The gentle splashes provide a promise that they will Guide your thoughts, rather than aggravate them. Slowing them down, focusing on what truly matters. Unlike under the scorching cerulean sky, Where floating in the middle of nowhere Is blinding And being suffocated under the waves Which choke your silence. Here, silence is free, Silence isn’t synonymous with fear. Liberated by the soft waves of freedom, The dynamic blue water is glowing, Illuminating the truth in who you are, The truth that only you know is there. You’re safe here, You’re protected by the breeze that Carries your trepidation away Through the waves of discovery.
Sometimes I wish I could rewind the clocks and go - go back in time, be interested in the things I'm not, play with the toys that collect dust, climb the tree house before it’s all rot, ride my bike before its covered in rust, play games with my brother, just give it another, go - go back in time, and say yes to those scary things, not be as shy, listen to the bird sing, cause the limit is the sky. Oh, the places, I will go - but now I just sit, and cry as they all go by. By Josh
The cushions on the couch provide a comfortable place to rest -
the dog curls up beneath my feet to doze, the rug is her place of vacation its soft strands intertwined with her fur, like warm sand underfoot. The picture frames on the wall catch my eye as I examine the memories they hold, As the books on the shelf call out to me, they long to be read, the blanket wraps around me - hugging me tight as I read, travelling to a distant world from my living room, whilst the vinyl spins round and round, dancing as it sings, the candle joins in the dance - gently, flickering, as it bathes the room in a soft, warm light, the warmth protects me from the cold outside, the storm that rages on can’t reach me, here. By Josh One day, I was walking home with my mum, An old man called me love, Told me to give him a lick of my ice cream, I was seven. and it still makes me wanna scream. One day, I wore my favourite skirt to the shops, I got catcalled by a man someone probably called "pops", My mum told me "take it as a compliment" I was fourteen and no longer comfortable in my skin. One day, I went out with my friends to town, what Ii was wearing should not matter, but to every guy who saw me it did, I was fifteen, and realised that this was normal. I shouldn't be afraid to go out at night in fear of harassment, but i am. I shouldn’t have had to worry about it at 14, but i did. I shouldn't take it as a compliment, It was not. Jemima |
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Teenagers With Experience is an online organisation created to provide teenagers worldwide with an online platform to share their own experiences to be able to help, inform and educate others on a variety of different topics. We aim to provide a safe space to all young people. You can contact us via email, social media or our contact form.
Please note that the content on this website is created by teenagers. While we strive to provide accurate and helpful information, it is important to remember that we are not professional experts. If you are experiencing a crisis or need professional advice, please reach out to a qualified mental health professional or a helpline. |