The Ache Beneath My Ribs

Lately, my anxiety hasn’t been loud in the obvious ways. It’s quieter, more like static in the background, until it isn’t. Until my chest feels heavy for no reason, until time folds strangely, until I can’t tell if I’m running toward something or away from it. I wrote this to try and give shape to that feeling, so it doesn’t just live in me, buzzing, unspoken.

It starts in my chest,

a restless tide pressing against bone,

like my body knows

something I can’t name yet.

heartbeat heartbeat heartbeat

too fast

or not fast enough

I can’t tell

only that it’s wrong

time folds in strange ways

minutes stretch until they’re hours

then collapse like paper

wasn’t it morning

just a second ago?

I keep thinking:

something is missing

someone is calling my name

from the next room

but I can’t stand up

to see who it is

I want to climb

out of my own skin

but the zipper’s stuck

and my hands are shaking

then-

a breath,

shallow but mine,

pulls me back

the room is still here

the day hasn’t run away

my mind slows,

circling the same questions-

Am I Enough?

Am I Doing What I Was Meant To Do?

Somewhere beneath the static

there is a hollow space

ringing like an empty cup

waiting for water

for light

for the sound of my own voice

saying,

you are here

you are not too late

you are still becoming

I carry the ache beneath my ribs

like a secret stone

heavy

but proof

that I’m still alive

enough to feel it.

If you’ve ever carried this same ache, know you’re not alone. Some days, just naming it is the bravest thing we can do. And maybe that’s enough; to keep breathing, to keep showing up, to keep believing there’s more ahead than what our fear can see.