a short story
Her nails were bitten down to stumps; chipped black polish heightened the gruesome look of her bloody fingertips. Her heart felt permanently in a state of distress; most days, she hung somewhere on the precipice of tears and panic. Nervous thoughts bounced across the spaces of her brain relentlessly; there was little rest for the anxiety inside of her.
Today was no different. She sat in a bright green lawn chair, trying her best to cherish the first signs of fall; the sun still hung bright in the sky, but a crispness lingered in the air as a reminder of the ever changing seasons. She talked about the weather and the news; she danced and laughed with her friends to the sounds of an end of summer concert. She tried her best to ignore the beating in her brain, the whisper telling her to worry; it all felt familiarly forced. She’d spent every second, for as long as she could remember, warding off an inner darkness, a sense of desperation and despair that seemed to lurk in even the most subconscious corners of her mind. She counted through the reasons not to worry; an inner monologue played through her head, rehearsed, completely memorized by now, a series of things she could tell herself to try to calm down. She focused all of her energy on only this moment, urging her inherent anxieties away. She reminded herself constantly that today was a good day, trying in vain to quiet the anxious whispers in the back of her mind.