Hurtling

Is it you, or just me I'm hurting? As I'm tumbling, crashing and whirring.

Upon my life I wreak havoc, as I procrastinate, freeze and panic.

I'm waiting for the inevitable, my accumulated blunders irrevocable,

both my peers and partner, realizing I'm a non-starter,

as I choke on my proposals, with goals both profound & noble,

I am unable to see them to fruition, not lacking in ambition -

but control.

I thought, 'as I grow old',

I can alter my disposition, through commitment to tuition.

I'd turn ideas into achievements, trialing strategies & treatments.

But they act only as a plaster, keeping me ever an actor,

waiting for the ball to drop, sending my mentors into shock,

cracking the mask I painted myself, stark, not calling for help.

As deadlines draw closer, I am no longer the controller,

letting the wheel slip from my hands, unsure if I will land.

But I survive. Somehow succeeding.

It was not contrived, I wasn't leading.

I avert my eyes from the unfurling.

Anticipating collapse, I continue hurtling.

(context: I am a PhD candidate with ADHD and am just very stressed. I've never written poetry before, but it was quite nice to just write something not about my work. I would really appreciate feedback, as I wanted to show my partner, but have no idea if poems can be structured like this and suffer from 'not wanting to seem like an idiot-ism')

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