What makes you most anxious?
It seems so easy when I sit alone
But then the real thing’s there
And I tremble and I worry
No one really cares
About the things that drive me nervous
And if I’m being honest, no one really should
Mischosen words clumsily spoken
First impressions gone way wrong
Every compliment paid me must be token
Every smile must be while wondering, “how long?”
But somewhere, someone feels the same of me
Wondering what I care about
While their “not good enough” is good enough for me
So what am I so scared about?
Writer In Retrospect 
Beautifully written and insightful, Rachel! ❤
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Thank you, Cheryl!
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Amazing, Rachel. Silken in expression and striking in its completeness. One of your best yet, and the poem has considerable competition for those laurels.
Do I insult the conversation with a cliche? Wise beyond your years?
Well, yes, but your artistry exceeds that. With the words you’ve chosen, you’ve turned the page and you’ve started a new chapter.
Naturally, each of us thinks his/her afflictions are unique. However am I going to get through this? A consequence of each of us being trapped within ourselves to a large degree.
Relief comes, as you express, in realizing so many others share the struggle. The exact details vary – they always do – but the contours are remarkably consistent. Here the clouds part and life beams with friends, family and the civilization they’ve encouraged.
By the way, you may have noticed I’ve been absent, more or less, these past couple weeks. Indeed, significant events intervened. Lots of catching up to do here, on my blog, and on others’, but I’m back.
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I did notice that! I was a little concerned — not that I’m one to talk; but then, you’ve always been better with that kind of thing than me. If you’ll permit the intrusion of my curiosity, may I ask what kind of significant events? That is, whether good or bad (or neither)?
And I thank you very much for your compliments. “One of [my] best” is quite a grand one indeed coming from you. Though as for starting a new chapter, I’m forced to observe that I tend to be a rereader.
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