My head roars with questions
Why me? This affliction like a curse
The vengeful spite of another for past wrongs?
I sigh, shuffling uncomfortably
'It's probably nothing serious'
I tell myself repeatedly, loudly
Looking at a blank spot on the wall
Seeking confirmation
'Probably just a glitch'
Nodding too convincingly
Inside I believe the worst
Inside I'm almost prepared
The blank spot on the wall,
A constant in my world of uncertainty
as I await my appointment like a dog
Awaiting its owners return
Would that it be sooner than later
Would that it be over already
Visions of needles, knives and clamps
Of beeping machines and thunking contraptions
All false and exagerated
In my way, as my affliction would have it
My mind on overtime, unpaid
A workaholic streaking through every angle
Every thought half processed then left to fail
Doomed to depression and anxiety
THIS is my affliction
What if, what for, what then?
How, when, why, which?
If, if, if, if...
The pain builds as I move
Anxiously seeking comfort
What makes it hurt, what eases it?
Questions all asked for knowledge
Knowledge gained to be twisted against me
by me, and me alone
By my affliction
Can surgery remedy this?
I sigh, 'You're over reacting'
Whispered to those who worry as much
'Don't be silly, I'll be fine'
If I could believe that then maybe they would too?
Smiling and bracing against a sweep of pain
Providing more fuel, for my affliction