I Gave Myself A Nickname

Aaren Herron
2 min readSep 10, 2022

A hail of anxiety rests as a mountain of white powder
Etched off the surface of a desolate being
Inflammation brings about reactions
A careful attention paid by those closest in orientation

The debris finds itself dug under the nails of prophecy
Cut and chipped into a shape more familiar
Meant to protect
Its use is turned into a destructive IED for the home of its maker

You clean your nails
Hoping the dirt stays away
But anxiety makes its return in the worst of ways
A blistering river of unclean faucets
Sterilizing the demons that invade you constant

Much like a blessed water
It only holds back for a short minute
The walls always crumble
Allowing a mist of red to coat the mountains of white
Before healing an icy yellow before your next flight

I believe they call it eczema
I call it a familiar foe
Unrelenting in its desires
Unmoving in its enforcement

I believe they call it anxiety
But I’ve only met him today
Though he saw me from miles away

They all knew before I did
Exactly what it was you did
While sitting on the mountain
Congruent to a tonally morbid
Instance of needed assistance

The therapist could’ve told me
But she never knew the real me

I gave me a nickname
One we could all understand

But I gave no plan of intent
To express across the lands
What it was to be this man

Sitting in ignorance
I laugh while you all attempt
To stick to me like glue
Never knowing my name

Something completely free

Something completely me





Aaren Herron

Creative writer working to hone his craft, no longer at the expense of a mental state.