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Array
(
[sid] => 133506
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Back Seat Of Anxiety
[time] => 2007-04-14 13:28:58
[hometext] => the act of anxiety-driven perfectionists lives is intricate enough to fool most bystanders. don't be a slave of imperfection
[bodytext] => At the ripe age of 15 we learn to drive We're sent off into the world at 18 Expected to thrive When I was only 6 I learned I was different Put on a stage in a bikini Do the routine, too much time was spent Looking back, I can finally remember At that young age How I felt when I looked in the mirror My fat bum didn't fit onstage My father, an artist. Lots of focus on looks He gave me insight, support, and lots a' books I was in a frame of mind too old for my body I was happy with my life but not with me Little did I know as I rhomped about the house Carefree, eating what I want; running where I please I had so many problems in store that I knew nothing about Hit me like a brick wall, perfection was there to seize Just as we see dead roses need to be thrown away Sight can be a blessing and a curse; I looked in the mirror with Hell to pay But oh! Little did I know, That was just the beginning Before I let my true colors show My entire self esteem and inner beauty takes a beating As time went on, it only got worse, I became apathetic looking for a "cure" I tried to look for something more to life Something far beyond looks I couldn't control I comtemplated, sought something I liked inside But this entire time, I wasn't really overweight I looked at myself and put too much at stake Taking a shot at perfection is never worth the effort I will spend a lifetime on attempted achievement Just to never be happy, no matter how much it hurts She wont like me, he'll think I'm retarded or have a disease I'm not ever what I want, I don't do what I please Inhibition sped as fast as it can go I take the backseat of anxiety and put myself in tow I don't have this self esteem or confidence you speak of I may seem as though, I'm on that stage again, for another show This time around I act, I pour my made up heart out I take the same placid mask that won't ever let me be loud Self-supressed, anxiety-driven, Queen of Inhibition A show sold out, she's quite the act You would never guess she hates everything about her At some time or another, psst: she thinks herself fat! She shoved any co-star that shouldda been there off that stage She couldn't let them see who she was, in fear of rejection She will not be weak; she will be her own slave Or was this girl always the slave of imperfection? Some say its all in your head, its simply a teenage phase When anxiety is passed through a bloodline That lasts strong years and years You'd think this disease has been completely refined So you're stuck with it, huh? You'll never like who you are No, I won't let this disease take me down Though it may tear me apart There's a hope for tomorrow, hearts never beat in vain I've found many things good in myself but not without pain Pain allows passage, its a simple price to pay I can begin to accept myself but its a drop in the bucket every day I look in the mirror and inside of myself to make a selection But I can't help but wonder Why was I choosen to be a slave to imperfection? [comments] => 1 [counter] => 266 [topic] => 75 [informant] => SmileSkinDeep [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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