I struggle and miscomprehend.

The people-pressure and anxiety flood my senses.

I become that which I dread:

a mess of nerves.

A flustered shape, taking up space.

Wishing to be invisible but “seen” at the same time.

An ambiguous creature.

Yearning to be understood but longing to understand too.

I hide in crowded rooms.

A wallflower gasping for breath that only others can provide.

A kiss of life to resuscitate my anxious soul.

Few know this feeling…

Yet it’s as intimate as a shroud,

shielding me from comfort,

preventing others from getting close.

A lonely burden.