Visions of Anxiety

Evolution. Take the Truth as a grain
of quinoa, take it as you may. Fight or flight
has evolved to herds of butterflies. Fluttering
freakishly each eternally long moment we dream of
the unknown. Adrenaline. Blood rushes
preparing for a fight- or a marathon. Picture it
in this light: fleeting feelings
of awkward— spastic waves to friends not
returned or saying you too when the waitress
says enjoy your meal— Flight. Run fast. Trust in your
Nikes, trust your sprint speed. Run from awkward.
Approach it from this angle: Fight or flight
has become crippling constant anxiety. Biting,
ripping, spitting your fingernails- your leg
constantly pulsing. Focus on the page you say,
as you breathe in the eucalyptus roll-on oil that
Aunt Sue said would aid in the fiddling:
the fallout, from fear of failing to fit in, a floating
device to latch on to while your arms flail side
to side, your head, begins to bob. Drowning.
Inadequacy. The Gremlin can lunge at you
at any time. Fight. Fight the fear. Evolution of fear into
policy- or lack thereof. Today, today you practiced
a drill at school, safety. School is supposedly
savoring innocence, safety. Your teacher firmly
says get to the safe place, the red carpet
becomes shapes as your eyes go crossed
from staring and wondering. Staring. You wonder
if you’ll become the carpet yourself. Is there really
a safe place? Will the quiet game work… if,
(heaven-forbid) an intruder entered. The flashcards,
vocabulary, multiplication. The flashcards
can’t save us.

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