I feel the lust in my lungs
When my chest seizes
The burdened breaths
And automated, unintentional heavy sighs;
Always finding myself staring off,
Having zero thoughts, having twenty—all at once,
I’m juggling between what seems logical and what is most certainly
An annoying undercurrent of paranoia

Of course I know best when I’m being ridiculous
I take it harshly, and in absolutes,
Instead of half-truths
I wear them as brandings of my misgivings
And so I can be open and warm,
Until I remember then try to hide myself away, cover up my skin—
All until the false confidence begins again

I never thought I was this insecure,
But maybe I am, but maybe this is normal, maybe this is everyone
Hard to tell when we’re all trying so hard to pretend otherwise