ANXIETY.SAR
Abismo Cavado e Medicado
I wake up at three in the morning with a tight chest
Take a deep breath the app says, I'm being monitored
My anguish has a name, a code, an icd
But there's no answer, just sleeping pills
Sartre said nausea is reality asserting itself
I feel it every day and no one seems to get it
It's not weakness, it's not being dramatic, it's not a lack of faith
It's the weight of existing without knowing why
I asked Google, it told me to meditate
I checked my feed, it told me to shop
I asked myself, absolute silence
That's the most honest diagnosis I've ever had
Anxious, medicated, functional
Productive enough for capitalism
Sartre shouted, you are your choice
But how can you choose when your mind never rests?
Therapy on wednesdays meetings on fridays
Pain boxed in between goals and tasks
I perform normality with mastery
No one notices I'm in agony
The being-in-itself feels nothing, I envy the stone
The for-itself condemns and the mind despairs
Condemned to consciousness sartre was right
Too much freedom and no direction
It's not burnout
It's not weakness
It's existing without an anchor
It's freedom that weighs
Anxious, medicated, functional
Productive enough for capital
Sartre shouted you are your choice
I choose to stop even if it hurts
Notification: Your meditation session is overdue
Ignored