What, Me Worry?
Two, maybe three, small, white pills a day. I am among an ever-growing population of people whose flight-or-fight is always triggered. Whose body believes it just ran a marathon after waking up in the morning. Who won't go anywhere new without detailing a step-by-step to follow in their mind of how to get there. My mind and my body betray me every day. My mind assaults me, throwing insults and filling the quiet spaces with "what if" until there is no more quiet and the intermission between thoughts becomes the main act. Rumination should be the eighth deadly sin. My body betrays me as my heart races and my chest hurts, my hands shake and my eyes tear up. I hate the feeling when my ears burn. I don't like being called upon during class. I only like being seen when I want to be seen. Anxiety is the great con artist. It will tell you lies until you believe them, and will make you paranoid beyond belief. I don't trust people. Anxiety makes it hard to let