Anxiety. - Like_Sephora123 - Wattpad

Story cover for Anxiety. by Like_Sephora123

Anxiety.

Like_Sephora123

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Parts 1
Time <5 mins

Reads 2
Votes 0
Parts 1
Time <5 mins

Like_Sephora123

They said to give writing a chance. Express your feelings.
Take a chance.
But I'm not sure this is for me. Pondering all the challenges of writing, turning my feelings into words with colourful vocabulary.
"I can't do this" is what I thought. I can barely speak proper in real life, face to face, I stutter in my talk. But then it hit me.
It's not my vocabulary, grammar, punctuation that stops me from moving forward.
Rather it's my mind, this brain which is a house of horror. 
Concealing feelings...I've realized I've been doing for a while. All in my head, repeating,growing, resounding consuming my mind.
Over analyzing sentences while I speak.
Afraid the world will think I'm stupid and a freak.
My face is flushed when I realize my mistakes. Improper sentences flows out 
my mouth...the subject and verb disagrees and have their way. 
So I giggle off the shame and blame it on a lack of sleep then I think and think of how I can correct my stupidity.
So I'm taking a chance on this sheet.All Rights Reserved

Table of contents

Part 1- The Struggle.
Sun, Dec 7, 2014

1 part

Part 1- The Struggle.
Sun, Dec 7, 2014

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Slide 1 of 9

Echo of the Past cover

CONTRACT WITH AN ALPHA cover

rose in the desert cover

The Redemption of Maximus cover

Deception 4 cover

Echo of the Past

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.