A tiara of dead flowers rests heavy on my head.
How do I tell you my Anxiety causes fear that I carry everywhere I go, even when I don't want to.
How do I tell you I fear my fear which fears everything in my life.
Because isn't the funny thing that I spilled cold drink on myself and then cried like it was the worst thing that could happen to me? Isn't it even funnier that I cried and couldn't catch my breath after that?
And isn't the real joke my shaking hands and numb fingertips?
The problem with having an Anxiety problem is that everything becomes a problem. Everything wrong goes more wrong. There's no limit to panic attacks and dying convictions. But there is a limit to every chance at being normal, or still. ,
When you tell me I think a lot I tend to think even more. I think and think until I have imagined every worst case scenario. I think and think until what I fear becomes real and when it becomes real, I always say - I already knew.
What I mean is, is it okay to call the flowers that never blossomed beautiful?
Is it possible that most of the things only happen to me because I make them happen in my head first? Do I really have an Anxiety problem? Or is it just in my head?