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The Reality of Anxiety

Creative Writing - A Slight Insight on What It Is

By Madi WritesPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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Anxiety.

Quivering legs, sweaty palms and the pounding pains that swirled around my head constantly, were enough to make my stomach flip. I always admired the way people talked about how they had butterflies, or even a whole zoo within their stomach. The sweet fluttering against a person’s tummy when shyness would over take them, or the tickles within that represented the nervousness they felt.

But I was not shy, neither was I nervous. I was paranoid and self-conscious. I was insecure and hesitant as I yearned for the heavenly angels to whispers sweet nothings into my ears. Instead, all I heard were the quiet murmurs of my personal devil, reminding me of how embarrassed I should feel.

I had no reason to be embarrassed, it was just an average Friday night. I lay in front of the tv with a tub of ice cream cupped in one hand, a spoon in the other.

To be truthful, I was embarrassed, completely embarrassed and deeply ashamed of how careless I had become. I couldn’t seem to strike a reason to why I felt so worthless, all I knew was that all this overthinking was horrific.

Filling with fear, my heart struck repeatedly against my chest as it became determine that it was going to escaped the malicious cage that was also known as my body. I often wondered what it would be like if my heart ever did break free. I was imprisoned by myself in every way possible. This thing, this feeling of anxiety had attached itself onto me, determined to engrave itself onto my soul and pollute the blood that trickled down my veins.

I was only 14 when I realised that anxiety had became apart of me.

Tossing and turning, while beads of sweat ran down my forehead, I often found myself peering up at the ceiling, afraid to turn towards my side, as I knew ever so well that anxiety lay close to me. Cuddling into me confidently as it would often engulf me into a hug, squeezing me into a state of unconsciousness. Oh how I wish I would become unconscious soon. I yearned for myself to slip into an endless pit of darkness and be swallowed by a dark hole, just like Alice was. I wanted so badly to wake up in dream land.

Very few times had I arrived at my ‘dream’ destination. A bright smile would plaster itself onto my face, the pinkness of my cheeks returning as it would tug at the ends of my lips, urging for my happiness to be spread just that tiny little bit more.

It’s the little things that count.

I felt at peace when I had been engulfed by the lies of my desperate imagination. The escape from reality meant that I wouldn’t have to be swarmed into my intrusive thoughts and overthink every situation that came my way.

Sparks of happiness shot through me as I felt myself morph back into a younger, stress free version of myself. If only life could be as simplistic and as joyful as my days as a young child. Blossoming like a flower, as I wandered through life, a sea of hopes carrying me.

But I am no longer a young child, nor am I no longer asleep. I can not sleep, not when I am so lonely yet so overcrowded by this feeling, this soul.

That’s the thing about anxiety, it interrupts the happy thoughts and moulds them into something negative. It’s stops your positive train of happiness and snaps you back into reality—the reality of Anxiety.

anxiety
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About the Creator

Madi Writes

Opportunities don’t make themselves, you have to be the one to create them!

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