anxiety [poem]

this is not a poem or
this is a poem but a bad one about anxiety and
does it count if it reads more like
a diary entry than a poem?
this is confession
I can face any leader or manager
or president or celebrity
without issue
because I’m never facing them as me
I’m meeting them as one-of-a-collective
a mouthpiece for the hive mind
a bringer of data problems and solutions
to assist the unit as a whole
I only face anxiety when separated from my pack
suddenly scrutinized as one-of-one instead of seven-of-nine
measured completely by myself
it doesn’t matter if
the measure is positive or
the scale imbalanced against me
I cannot handle direct focus
my heart races
blood rushing to feed the swarm of thoughts
buzzing in my skull
I’m wrong I’m bad I’ve done something
have I done something?
no
I breathe
remind myself that I’m good
I’ve met all requested goals and
surpassed basic success parameters by a large margin
but still
anxiety twists me up until
it’s all I can do to remember my own name