This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Pace chapter.
Sinking in teeth on skin red from
frustration. Latched
on me with gnawing hunger
depriving my mind from slumber
uprooting my being to drag me
bodily into states of panic
states of pain
and a sense that it all leads to insane.
Once it is latched,
hanging off my back,
a little fond I become of it’s constant
threat and
drumming, impending, fear.
Whispering in my right ear,
“you’re failing,
you’re slipping,
your goals are shaking.”
And I know it is true,
that I picked up this beast
last week at school.