I see the door, the open entrance of it all. But too much anxiety holds me, it grasps my throat. I fall back, scurry to the corners of my darkness. Making friends with shadows, though they only lacerate my hope.
Bleeding me till I have nothing left but contempt for myself. My heart, racing to a rhythm I cannot keep. My breath as shallow as a receded tied. My hands clasp to my head as I try to filter through the animosity. The clouding misery that impedes my path.
I cower to my fears, helpless; fidgeting for an excuse to let it all go. Time becomes my wrathful enemy. Its eyes narrowing as it constricts my mind. Pressing me further and further to the darkness. Seconds become minutes, hours become days and I cry with no intent to reach for compassion; neither for myself nor time.
I feel no resolution for forgiveness. I stall, like prey to predator. Stunned in the recollection of my fears, never prepping myself in advancement. Sweat pours from my brow, my flesh becomes a painting of embarrassment.
My vision blurs and I curl my tongue inward. Inside I scream, I rumble for peace; but none is found; and like the rat to the snake, I retreat. Only to fail in my attempt to escape for I bring no new courage. I only grow my bitter roots to fester in my chest.
Pulling me deeper to this anxious battering of thought. I feel my jaw clench with cruel tension, my heart pounce with worry and my ears become full of weakness. Voices crowd every canal of my thoughts like an eclipse of wailing doom.
Weighing heavy upon my soul, ripping my tongue from my body and giving no aid to my torment. I am a pin cushion of my mistakes, my faults, my flaws. I bring myself to my knees and collapse with meager resistance.
Clawing with malicious eradication of any confidence I may have lying around. I cut myself from reality and feast upon pity like a gluttonous child, who's mother is but weak in her own will.
But in my deranged madness of my own murder, I feel a sense of peace. It begins to flow up my spine with a tingling sense of relief; and suddenly, my ears clear, my breath collects with release and my vision becomes clear.
It has only been ten minute of agony. But ten minutes of ruthless and irrational mental death. Stringing myself up as if I am forbidden from the hands of peace or the loving embrace of forgiveness.
Have you had an anxiety attack or ever dealt with impeding anxiety?
If so, how have you dealt with it, are you still struggling to figure it out?
More emotional stories to be found in, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming October 2018, The Bleeding of Words
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