That Which Binds

I recently developed anxiety, a creature of the mind existing in direct contrast to my own immortality. I thought I was a man without fear or limits but now I've found that which binds me to everyone else. It's depressing, at its core, because it sucks the life out of things I thought I loved...

Thunderstorms...

Reading...

Midnight runs to the store to buy a small snack so I can binge a new TV shows while studying...

And yet there I was, earlier this evening, standing in the aisle labeled "Hispanic food" and other crap I don't care about, trying to decide which brand of salsa I wanted. I went with a safe option (corn and black bean) knowing that "medium" heat is a slippery slope down to "hot" heat just as anxiety trips over itself and stumbles into full blown depression and, eventually, madness.

But there's sanctuary in madness, isn't there? I envision myself in a hospital room somewhere, screaming at the white walls because only I understand the blistering sensation of comprehending my own thoughts. If I tried putting those thoughts into words it leaves a foul taste in my mouth, just like that night I thought I was having a heart attack and began vomiting out of panic.

I'm okay though, really, because I've trained myself to find strength in my weakness, to temper my chains and binds until they become armor.

I feed upon myself, prey upon my fears and know that I'm only as good as the withering visage I allow myself to become. I force myself awake at night to face the man I hope to become and breath fire into the maw that is my ego draconis.