Continental Airlines flight 1065 from New York to Mexico City.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Flight-Attendant Lady, I do not think that I am able to sit in the Emergency Exit Row of this airplane.” They had told us to go ahead and speak up. She looks at me like I have to be crazy, like she’d never heard this before, she looks for missing arms and says “Why are you not able?” and I say, “Because I don’t really want that responsibility. I seriously believe that in the highly unlikely event that I, or anyone else for that matter, survives the graceless plummet to earth of this flying metal box of this winged coffin in the event that there is an emergency situation, I will be unable to assist you in saving the lives of the 300 immaculate souls that will need …show more content…
Oxazepam, Lorazepam, Clonazepam, Alprazolam. Duloxetine is the only thing that works and they’re weaning me off it, so like a baby forced to remove thumb from mouth, take teether instead, I got sent to Anxiety Group.
Apparently, we’re all gonna to die. Because while the girl on my left is scared that the plane will hit her, the woman on my right is scared that it will hit a nuclear power plant and then we’re all outta luck. My father says: ‘Only rich people go to therapy, poor people got things to do’, and yet here I am in this lifeboat, surrounded by ten of the most impeccable, insane people the world has ever seen.
These people fight through every day like gladiators who fight demons worse than you, and I can even imagine, just because they want to live so badly. They want to hold on, to love. Because you can’t be this afraid of losing everything in this world if you don’t love everything you’ve ever seen first first. You just have to have a soul-burning hope that things will get better to be this afraid of missing …show more content…
It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.”
When he said this, i wonder if he was aware of how similar suicide notes were to love letters. For example, “I bet it all makes sense now.” “I never knew how to tell you.” “The pudding you like is in the fridge."
When you have anxiety, you never stop feeling things in your chest. You’ve given too much of yourself. Given it to school, or work, or people. You never save enough for yourself.
You should know that you are perfect. Studies show that 78.9% of all anxiety stems from insecurity. It just does.
So please, remember that you are lovely, and gorgeous. Remember that the person next to you may not think that they are beautiful or lovely either. You are so perfect.
Turn to your neighbor today, tell them they are gorgeous. Tell them they are pretty. Pretty smart, pretty strong, pretty funny.
This world is so hateful. This world hates it’s self. And here we are, complaining so much about it. We are doing nothing, maybe we should start. So when the plane rumbles down the runway, I cross myself 3 times, and they both look at me in surprise and pity. I say what. I happen to be more useful than I look. I may not be trained in hand to hand combat or hysterical person slapping or staying calm in moments of ever, but I am a 15 year old slam poet, and if things goes down, I am the only one here who knows where to find
“Excuse me, Mrs. Flight-Attendant Lady, I do not think that I am able to sit in the Emergency Exit Row of this airplane.” They had told us to go ahead and speak up. She looks at me like I have to be crazy, like she’d never heard this before, she looks for missing arms and says “Why are you not able?” and I say, “Because I don’t really want that responsibility. I seriously believe that in the highly unlikely event that I, or anyone else for that matter, survives the graceless plummet to earth of this flying metal box of this winged coffin in the event that there is an emergency situation, I will be unable to assist you in saving the lives of the 300 immaculate souls that will need …show more content…
Oxazepam, Lorazepam, Clonazepam, Alprazolam. Duloxetine is the only thing that works and they’re weaning me off it, so like a baby forced to remove thumb from mouth, take teether instead, I got sent to Anxiety Group.
Apparently, we’re all gonna to die. Because while the girl on my left is scared that the plane will hit her, the woman on my right is scared that it will hit a nuclear power plant and then we’re all outta luck. My father says: ‘Only rich people go to therapy, poor people got things to do’, and yet here I am in this lifeboat, surrounded by ten of the most impeccable, insane people the world has ever seen.
These people fight through every day like gladiators who fight demons worse than you, and I can even imagine, just because they want to live so badly. They want to hold on, to love. Because you can’t be this afraid of losing everything in this world if you don’t love everything you’ve ever seen first first. You just have to have a soul-burning hope that things will get better to be this afraid of missing …show more content…
It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.”
When he said this, i wonder if he was aware of how similar suicide notes were to love letters. For example, “I bet it all makes sense now.” “I never knew how to tell you.” “The pudding you like is in the fridge."
When you have anxiety, you never stop feeling things in your chest. You’ve given too much of yourself. Given it to school, or work, or people. You never save enough for yourself.
You should know that you are perfect. Studies show that 78.9% of all anxiety stems from insecurity. It just does.
So please, remember that you are lovely, and gorgeous. Remember that the person next to you may not think that they are beautiful or lovely either. You are so perfect.
Turn to your neighbor today, tell them they are gorgeous. Tell them they are pretty. Pretty smart, pretty strong, pretty funny.
This world is so hateful. This world hates it’s self. And here we are, complaining so much about it. We are doing nothing, maybe we should start. So when the plane rumbles down the runway, I cross myself 3 times, and they both look at me in surprise and pity. I say what. I happen to be more useful than I look. I may not be trained in hand to hand combat or hysterical person slapping or staying calm in moments of ever, but I am a 15 year old slam poet, and if things goes down, I am the only one here who knows where to find