8 PM September 21, 2023

I will get the hang of this some time. Maybe it's just going to take a little bit of muscle memory. Honestly, the voice that narrated my life has been replaced by unrelenting anxiety.

As I approach thirty, I've been looking back and reflecting. When did the anxiety start to creep in? Did it slowly take up space, seeping into the dark crevices of my brain? Or did they swiftly devise a coup?

It's easier to pinpoint and blame a trauma that I allowed to be the overwhelming determination of my actions. Recoil, retreat, survive.

For months, my brain was numb and in shock. Part of me feels that I have remained stunted - frozen in the moments before my world order collapsed. I'm stuck in the finals week of my winter trimester at college.

There's a clip of Pedro Pascal putting his hand on his chest and saying, "This is where my anxiety sits." While I clack away at the keyboard, I can feel mine rising. It's beginning to swell. Am I breathing? Where is my anxiety in my body?

On my chest, it sits higher than Pedro's. It's a knot catching any words from being exhaled. It's a stabbing pain making my chest concave - my shoulders pulling forward. My body seems to be moving into a ball to surround the anxiety in maybe a heroic effort. Can it withstand the blast?

I started this with one intention, and it's weaved into something else entirely.