What having anxiety feels like:
I lie awake on my bed at 3 am, the gravity of my thoughts weigh me down so much that my head spins and I worry, I think and I worry, I worry about the things that aren't even significant and it's not just natural worrying it is the end of the world for me.
I can't think straight or rational at all.
So I lie in bed all day, wanting to leave this body and just clasp of it. But I can't.
But there appears a time when you have to leave the house or else you'll flunk and you'll lose the people you care about. So it's simple- I stroll, cycle, and unexpectedly it hits, anxiety kicks in.
It feels like I can hear the thumping of my heart 10 times louder than ordinary. It feels like everything is clouded, everything is proceeding gradually yet so rapidly that I can't catch up with it. I don't even acknowledge that I'm grinning teeth, fidgeting with my clothes, digging my nails in my hand until the pain is intolerable. I'm avoiding eye contact
because the tone of my absurd thoughts are too loud for me to hear anything else.
My anxiety feels like heated and cold water splashed at my skin. It feels like burning, it feels like everything terrible there is to feel.
Most of the time, things don't add up, most of the time I can't find the explanation for my crisis because there is no problem. There is no rhyme or reason.
From the exterior, it doesn't feel like I have anxiety because I laugh, eat, and look normal. They assume that if you cannot see it you don't have it. As if the pain is only exterior. But sometimes the most unbearable monsters are the ones that cannot be caught sight of.