Death Where There is None (A.K.A Anxiety)

Burden.

I see it in their eyes as they gather around,

casting glances that only give their meaning to me.

This was their grand day, their party, their reputation.

And now I've gone and embarassed them in front of their friends.

The people who are important to them.

They know I can't help it.

But it doesn't matter.

They don't care.

I feel shame.

Panic.

Again, rising within my chest, the beast has returned.

I feel death begin to encircle my heart, closing its long cold fingers

around what's left of my being. My breathing picks up once again, scattered

and racing as the weight of their stares fold onto my shoulders. They know not

the pressure they impart on my soul.

I run from the room,

my knees buckling

as I go.

A friend.

After minutes that feel like hours, someone has come for me.

They stand in silence for a moment. I don't look at them, I just breathe.

They sit next to me, and slowly extend a hand. Not at me, but for me. For me

to reach and take hold of. I do. I feel at once grounded. Secure. Validated. They know

what it is to be irrationally afraid. To feel death

where there is none.

A tear of relief falls

onto our hands.