Hello, Ms. Anxiety.
Where art thou sweater?
The one that’s made of rags? The one that covers the mistakes?
How come your hair is down?
I used to love gazing at the scars on your neck and the acne framing your face.
When did you exchange your grungy glasses for contacts?
Now your small eyes are on view, and it makes your face seem even chubbier.
Why are you not studying?
You know that your high grades are the only reason why people befriend you.
What are you eating?
Salads and greens are going to get you nowhere. I mean, look at you! Eat the fry from the floor.
Who are you?
Talk! You’ve been so quiet; it’s disgusting.

I am Ms. Anxiety