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