In the Head of a Girl with Anxiety

What is difficult is that, outside, I seem to be like everyone else. Simple coat, jeans, little black shoes, and a hat to hide my morning sloth. My poor hair, we will resume tomorrow. I seem to be doing well, as they say. Just a little tired, but people think it's because I go to bed late or have too much to do in a day. Finally, it's just because I've been an insomniac for so many years that I've forgotten my last-worst-good night's sleep. The good old times. I seem old to say that, but I still have 18 years and all my teeth.

For me, to be well is to succeed in spending a day without feeling myself die inside.Not a pain to live, necessarily; it's more like a feeling of dying of any disease that comes to appear drunk-there, like that, out of nowhere; it's okay. My brain focuses on this injury that just appeared strangely when I was going to live something stressful. No, I do not have to exhibit orally. No new job. Even fewer interviews to pass. Nobody will die, either. I'm going to take the bus to see my shrink for the first time.

I have a headache to think that I have to make a new journey. I've been thinking about it for several days. I have not even slept so much that I remembered how to go the extra mile. I wrote it on my cell. Even Google Maps is supposed to tell me exactly where I'm going, but my heart hurts. So bad at heart that the fear of stacking on the bus stresses me even more. Because, yes, I can stress more. I can stress to an unimaginable point. I even think that there is no end to my level of anxiety or if there is an end, it is death.

Sometimes, I seem so confused that I'm afraid of running into someone or something. My moves are strange, my talk, my eyes. I know a way, but I lose the same way. But that, no one sees it. I look like everyone. Two feet, two legs, two hands, two arms. A head, breasts, hips, and even my big ass who was able to sit in the bus filled with people. People look at me, it makes me even more anxious. My hands become moist. I stomp, it makes the spams that my body sends me to remind me that I'm not very well.

If only the world could see inside me. What is happening now? I'm drowning. I have two bricks to attach to the ankles and every step I'm going to make, right up to the bus exit, will have to be calculated. In my head, I repeat to myself: do not fall, do not fall! With two bricks that prevent me from moving forward, it is sure that I crash! But I must go out and I wish not to be alone, because otherwise I have to weigh on the peak and open the doors myself. I have misery with its doors. Sometimes, I weigh worse, there's nothing that works as it should.

That's it, my stop. This is where I have to land in front of everyone. In front of all the eyes that judge me or can judge me at the slightest error on my part. FUCK OFF, nobody comes down from me at the same time. I must weigh on the bars if I want the door to open. Why does it never open? Finally, the doors are open. Finally, I went out. Now, I have to go to my appointment.

Shit, it starts again. It's slippery on the ground and there's more people next to me.