If you don’t understand anxiety, close this post.
If you don’t understand anxiety, but you want to, I’ll introduce you. If you understand, I understand.
Hi, I’m anxiety. I’m the jittery one. The one that makes you tremble and fumble your words. The one that sends you flushed when all you do is try to make a witty comment and try to seem totally chilled and funny. And then, I’m the one that tells you how silly it was for saying that witty comment. Was it funny? Did they like it? They laughed, well thats good. I think.. But, maybe it was a sympathetic laugh…I don’t know…
I’m the one that tells you you’re not good enough, you suck at what you do and nobody actually likes the work you create.
I’m the one that joined you when you went to the ocean that day. You watched your friend jump freely into the sea, like a mermaid; carefree without a second thought. I was there when you wanted to be carefree too, but I didn’t let you.
You jumped in, and I did too. I told you there were sharp rocks and oysters, and creatures below that could take your life. I made your heart beat. Faster. Faster.
I clutched your lungs and throat with my poisonous grip, so breathing became harder and harder; until I decided to sit on your chest. And as you lost your strength, I placed my hands on your shoulders, so with every wave that came, you gasped for air and swallowed the sea each time. I held you back when you had to find your way up on to the rocks, to the ladder and up to the safe ground.
I followed you as you made the excuse that you needed to use the bathroom. And I sat there with you in the cubicle until I slowly left you. But don’t worry, I came back. Just to tell you how silly you were for not being carefree. For letting me jump in with you that day.
