Anxiety

I’m standing on the edge of a cliff that does not exist. I feel the imaginary wind blowing through my hair ready to hurl me over the edge. I worry about falling as I know it is inevitable. As soon as I step over the edge, usually willingly, there is a perpetual fall. Tense, flustered, unable to speak; this is the worst of it. Actually, this is all of it. And when it’s over, I wake up back at the top of the cliff ready to nose dive all over again. The process revolves like a top floating in a space without gravity. There is nothing to stop it but God himself… And probably a Xanax.

~love, lettie