My eyes blink profusely as I try not to cry

My hands aren't shaking but they sweat at an unusual rate

My heart decides that its beat is lost between waves of desperation and calmness

I can't breathe and I chug my feelings down my throat as a thirsty man lost on the desert

My fear of failure is so exorbitant I can't bear to look forward into all the possibilities of not reaching my greatest potential, and I am afraid my potential isn't as large as I thought.

I cry because I know the reality that I am told is harsher (but more coherent) than the one that I create. Anxiety will suffocate me forever

It will let its grip lighten at times, but its hands will not away from my neck. The ties that I have to it are intricately related to my personality and any time they break I break down in confusion.

I wonder if I'll see the sunrise without reminding myself of tomorrow. I only understand now how sick it is to always have the need of having something to look forward to, and though I realize it, I still can't stop.