Anxiety

If I stop moving

Then surely I will die

If I stop producing

Then surely they will kill me

If I stop talking

Then surely I will fail

If I stop acting

Then surely they will hate me

I can hate myself

At every turn it's effortless and easy

I can love myself too

But only for what I can do for others

Not for who I am

I am not sure how to function

If I am not needed

I am not sure how to live, if I am not sought

And one little piece of information

Has fucked me up so royally

That I can't stop thinking

About how much I want to die

But I can't feel that way

Because you need to be sane

I can't feel anything

Because I have to be perfect

In order to save you

I can't not save you

Because then you wouldn't need me

And if you don't need me

Then surely you won't want me

And if you aren't there to want me, then

What is the good of anything I have ever done?