My Tell-Tale heart is sinking further into descent; it beats with an excruciating vigor. My chest tightens and I am once again sent into a state of sheer shock—the unadulterated pain of adolescence—NO—of adulthood and its unforgiving nature. The hands of my life’s worn-down clock swiftly pass, hour by hour, month by month, and soon enough, year by year. One word, comprised of seven letters, and capable of derailing my very existence: anxiety. The thought of this word clouds my mind; the grey thoughts of dread, of processing my surroundings. My mouth dries, as the word, and by extension, the experience escapes my dry, chapped lips. My face loses its blushful tones and my lips are blistered; I taste blood, fresh with iron. Physically, I am greeted by the familiar sharp pains in my chest. I stop myself. I adhere to the invisible hands tearing into my chest cavity. I fall to my knees, I cannot breathe. My breath has abandoned me. My body betrays me, and with pleasure. Fight or flight? No, I freeze. My body responds as if I were a hypothermic abandoned explorer, lost in the frozen landscape of the once uncharted arctic. I give in, I have no survival instinct.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Texas chapter.