This is a piece written about how my anxiety makes me feel. I've been dealing with this demon for a majority of my life, and sometimes it becomes hard to put it entirely into words. This is my attempt at expressing how it feels to be afraid of your own shadow.
My Anxiety, Personified
The crook in my neck where my fingers rest when my thoughts will not.
Something so comforting in feeling my own pulse, knowing my heart mimics my head;
both racing to a finish line that was promised so long ago.
I'll make the banner myself if I have to,
anything if it means I can just stop running away from things that are ultimately inevitable.
When asked what my worst fears are, I could write books upon books packed full of subject matter on how my hands shake when I think about every time I've ever opened my mouth
How I always open up my heart just to make a complete mess of things.
These are moments my brain will never recover from,
My brain telling me I'll never recover from.
The impending reality that I am more wrong than I am right.