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Escitalopram Oxalate

Bridget Mick - February 1, 2024

Artwork by - Caitlyn Zmich

They told me I would be fine. 

I thought that I would progress.

But I’m at this huge party,

and I feel like such a mess.

My stomach, a heavy weight 

dropping straight down to the floor,

I shift from my position

and reach for the bathroom door.

But there’s no strength in my hands,

there’s no place to turn and hide.

My secret’s out and open.

My fears have come to life. 

My heart now beating quicker, 

rushing thoughts with no escape,

each time I finally kill them,

they return in stronger shape. 

So why isn’t this working?

It’s what they told me to do:

“When you start to feel this way:,

take a breath and you’ll get through.”

But an invisible hand

clenches hard on my throat’s walls– 

shallow breath entering in

though my chest rises and falls.

Why did I ever have hope?

How dumb, naive could I be?

To think that some fancy test 

or small pills could set me free?

People can’t know I’m like this. 

They will think I’m something less.

But I’m stuck at this huge party

smothered by nothingness.

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