Anxiety

Anxiety is defined in the number of papers I waited until the night before to write because I knew that I’d only have a certain amount of time to complete them in and no time to revise. No time to worry. No time to fix it. No time to fit in a panic attack. No time to add hyperventilation and chest crushing pressure to my already bone crushing time limit.

Anxiety is defined in the never ending list of TV shows I watch instead of doing homework, because to me, Criminal Minds and American Horror Story do not compare to the Hell that is an anxiety attack.

Anxiety is defined in the number of times I stutter, the number of times it takes to get the words out. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to. I can’t help it. I mentally freak out and short circuit. If a word does not perfectly come out of my mouth, I shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t have thought it.

Anxiety is defined in the number of pages I write. Over-expressing, overtyping, overwriting. I’m stuttering onto the paper. I’m babbling because the words all need to be better described, better written than the sentence before.

Anxiety is defined in the tests that I delay taking even for just a day because I know I’m not ready for them. I’ll fail and if I fail, I don’t get the credit. I don’t graduate with my class. I’ll be only 20 year old, 21 year old, 22 year old among 17 year olds taking a beginner’s English. Then I’ll have to delay college tests. Then I’ll fail out of college classes. I’ll be in debt with no degree to show for it. I’ll be useless. I’ll be a drop out. I’ll be everything I told myself I wasn’t going to be.

Anxiety is defined in the number of times I turn down a leadership role in order to evade responsibility. It is defined in the number of times I could have gotten a solo, done better at a sport, joined another honor society but didn’t. Because the thought that all eyes could be on me, that I would have been the focus of someone’s attention causes my airways to shut, my clothes feel uncomfortable, my hands are incapable of staying still. I am no longer a person, no longer human. I am now loose strings all leading to a different problem, a different anxiety.

Anxiety is defined in the countless hours it took to revise and edit this passage. Words start to lose meaning after the tenth review. I’ve read this paper thirty times over. I haven’t stop cringing, haven’t stopped fidgeting. This paper is never going to be done, is never going to be perfect, but I write and rewrite, review and reread until the words no longer look like words.

Anxiety is the lack of sleep I’ve had in the last few days. It is the lack of patience I have for people. It is the lack of caring and the absence of not caring, too much caring. Anxiety is the unending corrections I have to make on my life. Anxiety is the starting of a project and the reason that it never gets done.