Anxiety

Her heart was heavy, but she knew her heart was good, kind.  For she had soft-spoken attributes.  Polite and serene, one could mistaken her as shy.  She was that, but she screamed thoughts.  Her opinions were thick with passion’s rich flavor.  She felt so much.  Sometimes too much.  Which is why I push people away, she punched herself in her mind over and over again with that thought.  Tis a funny thing, those who claim to want honesty, full disclosure of thoughts and feelings get to easily turned off by those who leave nothing hidden.

To her, this was her curse and blessing.  Her love was not like anyone’s or anything’s.  She was a restless soul, never feeling sated always on the path to discovery, she always felt destined that maybe in this mortal coil she was supposed to accomplish something monumental.  But what? A tug-o-war of satisfaction and depression left her feeling confused, always this sense of want and need.  Will it ever be filled?

Her car was her sanctuary, the getaway to the world of possibilities.  Yet she say there in a random store’s parking lot waiting for what?  An epiphany? Prince Charming?  She always set out to do something, never accomplishing.  Ironic how the one thing she thought she longed for caused her great anxiety, people and interacting with them.

She enjoyed banter, affection, physical attraction, and flirtations.  Only increasingly when she had been drinking.  Anxiety can be crippling, ticks and strange habits were her soul’s only rest from it.  But getting a handle on them was always a chore, “I’m getting too old for this,” she muttered to herself.  Next year’s coming would inevitably lead to her 30th birthday.  Having such a young soul, she knew this could only spell doom.

 

Another missed call?  From who?  She wondered.  Her anxiety was high.  The highest it had been in decades.  Am I supposed to feel this?  This ever growing constancy of meaningless butterflies?  Wish they would come when it mattered.  A brief heartburn pain could be mistaken as love’s first knock.  “Crap!”  She said out loud to her droning car’s air conditioner, the only company she deemed worthy or rather accepting of her ever growing nervousness.  “God I need real company.  This talking to myself crap has gotta stop.”

With a sudden flick of her wrist she turned the ignition off.  Even shocking herself at her minuscule impulsiveness.  Ok girl, you’re just gonna go into Target and look around.  Maybe start up a conversation with the cashier.  Shouldn’t be too much to handle.

She knew she had been spending too much time in her comfort zone since being out of school and having no job.  Time was all she had lately.  Now was the time to slowly start introducing herself back into society.  Back to life, back to reality, she sang in her head humorously.

Her hands filled with adrenaline, shooting  tingles like sand dripping from her fingers.  Her body felt light and heavy all at once.  Breathing yet again needed to be a conscious effort.  Not too much, but not too little.  Trying to push back the thought of what if she was breathing too little, when in fact she could’ve been breathing too much.  What if I’m hyperventilating and don’t know it?  She felt a sudden panic at the thought.  Another voice she found telling her to relax.  You know who you are be confident….people will know. And then crept in Miss Degrading, People will judge you and your nervousness.  They’ll think something is wrong with you, don’t breathe too loud……(to be cont.)

 

*Note: Just a sample of the current short story series I am writing.  I will be covering different emotions, feelings, habits, sinful delights.  Just different things all based off human emotions.  This is very close to my heart being a sufferer of an Anxiety/Panic disorder this is something I deal with on a daily hourly basis, ever since the age of 15.  This has been my life.  I hope to bring awareness and little more understanding of what a person like me goes through, step by step.  If you are a sufferer and would like me to add anything (do note it is not finished) let me know and I’ll definitely take it in to consideration.

Love of love and happiness, till next time

Dani>*<

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Bee Hive

“Captain! We haven’t enough steam to cook these vegetables!”  Worried and oh-so-troubled Troy Becker voiced to his superior, who at the moment looked confused and puzzled, “confuzzled”? “Wha-wha? What does that have to do with what I just told you to do?!  Becker if you don’t man the front desk I’m going to steam more than those vegetables!”

Yes it was another crazy, fun filled day down at the recruiting office.  Only plus side to it all, at least for Troy, was the kitchen.  Now recruitment can have many connotations.  For Troy Becker it meant the new and improved Man Division of the Boy Scouts.  Not quite the action he was seeking when he joined up; however, up at the front, at least he was away from the “Captain”, Rodney Perillo.  That’s “illo” as in “pillow”.  He always emphasized to the newcomers.  “Captain Perillo”.

He was a big man, not stoutly or old looking though he was up there, but big, buff, and really like a captain or more like a drill sergeant.   “Troy Becker I better be hearing some typing or that’s the last time I want to hear you again!” He boomed so forcefully it rattled the front windows like gale force winds.

“Yes sir-ee bob!”  Troy giggled with strange and not necessary delight.  He sat there hitting the keys and typing absolutely nothing.  He found his inner child laughing maniacally.

A, B, C, D, F2, F3, 1, 2, 3… he then found himself looking at the computer screen with a sudden rush to look away.  Somehow he opened up a folder.  It was the Captain’s personal documents, “Why are these on here?  Thought we weren’t allowed to do personal business on the computer?”  A little bewildered and with childish anger, Troy made a decision to open the folder.  “Guess its mine to look at now.”  And with one click it was open.  Military Documents. “Project Bee Hive”. Confidential.

“Oh my God! Man Division my ass.”

Then with on quick thump he felt something on his back, “I knew you would find out eventually.”

The Fallen Forest

Fallen through the cracks, I clutch my dagger that had fallen free from the saddle bag.  “That damn horse is at it again!” I yelled trying to unwedge myself.  The large maple tree that was once a towering giant, now lay petrified and dethroned.  Its trunk had enormous cracks which served as excellent traps for humans it would seem, and ironic seeing as how we were the ones who caused its untimely demise.  We humans were not necessarily as nice to each other either.

“Servanna!” I called for my steed, that mare was more trouble than she was worth.  This was the seventh time she stopped mid run to buck me off, and it seems she picked the prime spot; about 21 minutes off the trail in the center of new forest.

After the battle of Turndred, the king had ordered the entire forest torn to shred.  Every 400 year old maple was uprooted.  Every willow, every oak, every single plant wasn’t just cut, but burned and taken completely out of the ground so it would never have a chance to regrow itself.  Every tree was at least 500 feet tall.

Many of the trees were burned except it would seem the maple tree I got stuck in.

The harder I tried to brace myself out, the more it seemed to grab at my waist.  I pondered to myself if I only had my horse I could wrap the rope around my upper body and she could somehow just yank me out.  However, she seemed preoccupied with playing with a whirling cloud of leaves, which seemed mighty peculiar in a dense, windless, birch forest; but then I remembered the stories, the trees, even the one I was trapped in, the reason the king killed the forest.  It was then I calmed myself, a hum in the air, I felt what I had to say in my bones, “Dear tree, please forgive me.”, and it was then I was freed.

Ancient forest