I wrote this immediately following an anxiety attack. This is why I'm thankful I don't get them too often.
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‘Tis the night before Christmas, not a sound do I hear;
My apartment is empty, there is no one else here.
A stocking is hung by the window with care
Though I knew in the morning it still shall be bare.
A tree in the corner, a wreath on the door,
And a single wrapped present, from me, on the floor.
I lie on my bed and I choke back a tear,
Thank God that this Christmas is just once a year.
The darkness draws in, like it does every night;
I remember again why my world isn’t right,
“You’re just feeling shy, not depressed or deficient;
No medicine’s needed, your will is sufficient.
Now pull up your socks, go on out and make friends,
And you’ll see just how quickly this little thing ends.”
But the panic attack, it still comes anyway;
I cannot go out there, so inside I must stay
And I long for the people that I might have seen
While I cower in bed and hope no-one comes in.
But the ones that I meet, they can tell I’m not right,
And so once again I’m alone in the night.
In the morning I’ll put on my mask and go out
And pretend that I’m happy and travel about,
And I’ll say ‘Merry Christmas’ to all that I know;
Though they terrify me, not a bit will I show.
And I’ll take the invite to the feast they have planned
And I’ll try not to cringe when they offer their hand.
I know they mean well, they want me to be glad;
In this holiday season no one should be sad.
So they pull down my fort, drag me out of my shell,
And wish me good cheer while they put me through hell.
For the company had in one day of largesse
Is just showing me things that I cannot possess.
And when Christmas day’s gone and they’re finished with me
I will cry out for more, but alone I’ll still be.
So I lie in my bed with my worry and fear,
‘Tis the night before Christmas, not a sound do I hear.