Ilhem Issaoui

Anxiety of a student

Anxiety of a student
I lock myself in a room
I have to write and edit
I know what is to be done
But will I do it?
Less than a month I have
The pages before me, many, many
Did I write this?
Am I certain of what I wrote?
What do I have to edit?
Cannot I hand them this way
And disappear
Because I feel I can no longer bear it
An hour after an hour
Still nothing done
Do I have a life?
I want to have a life
How can people still have a life?
A friend once appeared, it was warm to converse with
Now how tristifical
The heart races at night
Now it even races in the morning, every hour
You are fine as long as you eat
But cannot they see
At times you do not eat
At others you have no idea that you ate much
Each time the thought of studying comes to the encephalon
Poor encephalon
Do you know what it feels like to have a racing heart?
As if a cold cold aching is twisting the heart
Do I breathe?
A lump in the throat is all what I feel
To them a scholar should have no social life
It is the norm
It means you are exceptional
Can one be exceptional when one suffers from anxiety?
What is quite exceptional in being locked in
And the crux of the matter is that no one comprehends
Such intellectual abyss
I go to the veranda
Birds are happy, aren’t they?
Before the woman comes to oust them
Poor restless, they
Poor restless, I
When I try to divert the thought and the fear related
But in vain,
For in every conversation
The same topic will appear
Amidst Cimmerian solipsism, I holler
O friend hear me
But no one to answer
We return to the blackened papers as if nothing was wrong
Let us wear a fake smile
To people you are nothing
To acquaintances, you are a mark,
And perhaps a fleeting vainglory of theirs

Ilhem Issaoui © 2019