Try as I may to ignore it,
you sit there in the back of mind.
Always watching, always waiting
for that opportune moment to pounce.
To make me feel inferior, to scare me,
to dismantle everything I’ve built.
You’ve become my own shadow,
my darker half, my dangerous half.
Because of you, I feel like
a barely contained thunder storm.
Because of you, I can never settle
and adjust to a mundane, normal job.
You’re a backseat driver
I can’t rid myself of.
A specter that ceaselessly
haunts and taunts me at every turn.
You’re stained on me like warpaint
that I can’t scrub off.
I love you for heightening my senses
but I hate the way you drown me
in hopelessness, suffocating me
and collapsing my starving lungs.
You make challenges I face
and failure immanent.
I hate the way you send
peace running for the door
and my anxiety through the roof.
I just plain fucking hate you. Period.
And that’s the sad thing,
because you’re apart of
who and what I am.