Freshly baked poem from the anxiety oven.

I’m such a mess, my mind is literally all over the place, running at the speed of light as I try to perfect my expressions according to my speech and tell myself not to stutter as I speak and not to look desperate for a good conversation and not to expose my frustration through my eyes as I try to fit in, with all of you who are (maybe) probably like me.

~Part 1 of “Places you don’t fit in ft. Verbal conversations”


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