If I could find a tonic to splash upon my tongue, (that muscle involuntarily attached to my manic mind) I’d want a syrup of sweet dish soap
Something to scrub my palate clean of notions unspoken; wash away my taste for silent self-induced psychosis, my tendency to diagnose my very own damnation
There must be some potion that can shut up the electric buzzing in my brain, that unsleeping city of synapses so quick to snap shut at the idea of sainthood.
There must be some elixir to fix or be prescribed for my people-pleaser syndrome, my incessant cycle of second-guesses, Doctor please! A double dosage for my doubt, my denial, my deflection of—
No never mind! This poem’s just a pity show, a pathetic little ploy to parade around my petty problems. Please. I’m fine. I promise. I swear.
Because— Being neurotic is only in if you’re A L.A. vlogger called Emma Chamberlain Because the only thing cool about mental illness is the fashion statement when you wear it like a dress Because if you scratch an itch deep into your skin and only sigh in relief when you’ve torn holes through your tendons—
Well then. Look at you. Look at how everyone will see you. A freak, shaking. Now what do you think?
Anastasia Farley is a first-year Publishing/Editing and Creative Writing double major, also minoring in the Honors Program. She is also a part of Susquehanna University’s satirical newspaper, The Squirrel, and Girls on the Run. Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys running, collecting scrunchies, and traveling abroad.