The mask is slipping

Time is ticking

I get stabbed in the leg

I look down— nothing is there

A pain shoots up my calf

This isn’t fair

I look around

Every sound

Is too loud

Everytime someone asks me:

_ Are you okay?_

__

I want to physically recoil

_I’m fine_

Is all I say

Because what else can I say?

Should I tell them an invisible person is stabbing me in the leg?

Or at least that’s what it feels like

How does one explain that their own brain tells themselves that they are in pain

Everyday

I myself don’t even have a say

My brain calls all the shots

I wince as I get stabbed again in my inner thigh

I let out a small breath

I sigh

I feel my eyes prickle with tears

I cannot cry

I won’t cry

I inhale sharply

The mask is slipping

And soon everyone will see

A poem inspired by how I mask my chronic pain as a person with FND💗