The Illness

Like being water-boarded in gray mass
My illness feels thick
My mind is in a race
To escape the panic of doom.
My illness is unexplainable even to me.
It tightens my heart
And leaves me without hope of ever being able to breath like the rest...
But I wait until I can breath again, I know it's coming, it always returns.
I remember when I first felt it's presence at 5, sitting in the backseat of our family car.
I just stared out the window looking at nothing in particular
I just wanted to breath
But all I felt was the heaviness
Of my illness.
It makes you feel alone
Misunderstood.
Lost.
Sometimes all I feel I need is a hand placed on mine.
And a silence of love.
No advice
No analyzing of my present state of mind
No tough love
Just a hand placed on mine
And a silence of love.
As I sit trying to not to make a permanent decision to a temporary problem...