Your chest tightens. Your breathing quickens. You curl up in a ball, hands covering your ears, trying to drown out the thoughts. The endless stream of consciousness is beating you into the ground. You want to scream at it. Tell it to stop, to leave you alone, but it will not listen. It will not cease.
So all you can do is curl up into the tiniest ball possible, knees hugged tightly against your chest, eyes squeezed shut, a blanket draped over you — a thin shield protecting you from the outside world. You yearn for the blackness around you to be all that exists, but you know this cannot be so. There is a world out there — one that will not pause to let you catch your breath. One that continues moving as you desperately try to run away from it. But you cannot outrun that which you are living within.
So on shaking legs and with an aching heart, you reach down and find the strength within you to stand up and fight. Fists flailing, beating away the demons. Beating away the incessant thoughts as they circle you. They surround you, egging you on. Telling you that you are weak, that they are stronger and will win this battle. That they will forever debilitate you. That you cannot handle this.
But you do not back down, finally allowing the taunts to be your fuel instead of your demise. With all of the strength you can find left within your soul, you lift your sword and let it come crashing down upon the three-headed dog that is anxiety. And for this very night, it is slain.
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Thinkstock photo via KatarzynaBialasiewicz