O.o I was on the phone with you when this happened. I wish I could be there to talk you down during an anxiety attack, because this is the time I'm usually twiggin' out.

This poem makes me anxious reading it. You write this like a pounding-fist-on-the-table, sick-of-this-bs write. That might not be your intention, but I took it as panicked, which made it more intense.

I listen to my dad snore loudly
Across the hall.
I listen to my mom cough from being sick
Across the hall.
Restless.
Another late night.
I have many of those now.
Up late
Thinking,
Writing,
On the phone,

^^All the things you hear and think at once, it sounded. I love this. As usual.