A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome is the definition of anxiety by book.

Now, if only having anxiety were that simple.

Anxiety is the fear of him not liking the way you hold his hand.

The sudden racing heartbeat and shakiness you get when the song that is used to wake you up in the morning at 5:30 sharp is played on the radio.

The constant internal fights you have with yourself because you fear your body does not meet society’s standards because you stare at the indents on your thighs and the lines on your stomach, and although they make you, they break you.

The worry of your makeup running down your face from the few tears you shed in the back of the vacant, yet congested classroom.

The fear to throw out your empty cup that once held the caffeine pumping through your veins.

You wait until someone else throws out their cup, but not so fast, you don’t want them to know you were waiting for them. You wait another 30 seconds and then slowly proceed to the garbage can, trying not to trip over your own feet.

Some days you wake up feeling confident, unlike most days, until someone passes you on the street. Within that split three seconds of awkward eye contact, you compare and contrast your entire not so well being with theirs. From their head to the tips of their toes, you swear they seem perfect. But it is drilled into your mind that no one is perfect.

Your mind rattles with endless thoughts screaming all at once, making it unclear about what to do anymore.

You bottle things up because that is all you know how to do nowadays.

Every day feels heavy. Every day feels like it won't get better.

Anxiety is a constant internal fight.