Anxiety is a funny feeling.

In one moment, you're okay.

In the next, you're drowning.

Drowning in your own thoughts

With your mind playing a game against you.

Thought if we were to keep track of the wins and losses.

The mind is winning.

Being a victim of your own conscience

Is a funny feeling.

Knowing that no matter what, I will always be defeated

They say some people are born with no inner voice.

I wonder that is like.

I wonder it is like to hear nothing.

I wonder it is like to be “normal”.

I wonder what it is like to not over analyze every conversation I’ve ever had.

I wonder what it’s like to believe someone else’s word.

I wonder it is like to not fear others' opinion.

I may say I do not care for others' opinions.

But that is a lie.

For my mind will always want to please.

But never for me, of course.

Always others.

For the brief moments, my mind is at ease.

I do not know if it feels like peace.

Because I know deep down the anxiety will always return.

Some days are easier than others of course.

Some days it beats me so bad I cannot take anything else.

I can not eat.

I can not sleep.

And although my eyes were closed for those six dreadful hours.

I did not sleep.

I feel slow.

I feel no energy.

I feel no motivation.

But what I do feel is something else altogether.

I can not put my finger on it, nor can I describe it,

But every person with anxiety can tell you they feel the same anomaly.

An anomaly that will tear you down for every minute of every hour of every day.

Whether the voice is loud and front and center or quiet in the back of your conscious, lurking.

Waiting to tear you down.

The constant anxiety.