The bike is going pretty fast. I still can't feel the air in my lungs. Do we breathe through our lungs or through our mind? Have you lost count of steps on your way home? Have your feet felt tired than they ever have? I can tell my heart is beating fast. Making my breaths jump and hop to keep up with it. The passage of time dilates during such moments. The people fade out and the noises amplify. The seconds stretch or pass by too quick. I can't tell. It feels like it's been a week since I've opened my eyes. Every voice sounds like somebody is laughing at you. It's like fingernails on blackboards, only in silence. Just the shiver of it. Like screeching power brakes. Like dropping cookie jars from the shelf, by mistake. This has to be a mistake. It is. It is. You can hear your breath coming back. You don't realize how many people have asked you if you're okay. Your cheeks are aching for tears you couldn't let out. You feel too bad to introduce this side of you to the society.
This part of you called anxiety.

- The Broken Clock