Clutching My Chest by Ava Wong (16, New York)

Trigger warning for panic attacks.

all i know is the pressure of the monstrous mountain
as it crushes my chest, grinding against my lungs,
​chipping away at the air in my throat until
all i can feel is debris, sinking into my skin, 

---

making my fingers tremble as my whole body
goes numb under the rocks that have
bound themself to my chest, clawing their way
forward until a sharp, stabbing pain
tells me the mountain has found my heart. and everything
is tight as i will the mountain off my chest,
trying to breathe in and breathe out and let go--
but the moutnain has already carved a cliff
for itself where the rocks had dug into my chest,
and they squeez my lungs, press against my heart until
all i know is pressure, tightness, the need
to be anywhere but here— i must leave, leaving,
shaking, trembling, hands scratching against
the rough, fractrued rocks, and i can only
stare ahead, clutching my chest. waiting until finally,
it disappears. the world comes into view.
the classmates around me only stare.
my eyes well up. my face goes red.
all they do is stare. look. wait.
watching my pain. 
Ava Wong is a 16-year-old from New York City. They are a writer for YouthComm Magazine, and their work has
been featured in Teen Ink. If they aren’t writing, Ava can usually be found listening to music, reading, or sleeping.
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