When I arrived home
Anxiety was sitting at my doorstep
Anxiety didn’t mind my rapid heartbeat, 
tightened fists
I wouldn’t let Anxiety in
But she must have slipped through the door
Behind me

At my desk
Anxiety sat beside me
Counted how many times I tapped my foot against the floor
Counted how many times I breathed too loudly 
Counted 
and counted 
and counted
Until she lost track
Anxiety reminds me that I’m not good at math
(I can never find what x or y is)
Or at history 
(I can’t remember when I started worrying so much)
Or at life
I mean, biology
I can’t raise my hand to ask how I can get better

At the dinner table
Anxiety pulls up a seat 
Right across from me
She helps set out the knives and forks
But drops the heavy fine china of the evening’s main course
Before it can make it to the table
I tell her I’ll clean up the mess
Anxiety is the guest, after all

At night
Anxiety slides under the covers of my bed 
And invites some friends -
Most nights it feels like Insomnia
Is tugging at my blankets

Anxiety never asks
How I am feeling
She builds walls around me
Doesn’t let me call my friends
Make my own appointments
She is the guest that everyone claims to have hosted
For a night
They feel the sweating,
Shortness of breath
Before a midterm

They laugh about it once it’s all over
Anxiety will visit them again in a few months
But tomorrow morning
She will be sitting at the edge of my bed

Anxiety is cruel
But I can’t seem to kick her out
Anxiety is the guest, after all
For the sake of making her feel at home
I let Anxiety stay