Pants Vs. Anxiety

that balled up muscle of a clenched fist inside your chest, that isn't always a heart attack.
sure, it feels like one. or feels like how you'd assume a heart attack feels.
can't breath.
can't think straight.
in fact every thought in your head is accompanied by a giant red blinking sparkly word PANIC.
your hands sweat. your feet don't exist.
the entire world turns into a hallway and every sound is a jet plane taking off beside your ear.
your heartbeat isn't so much a necessity anymore, as it is a concerto of insanity that you can't slow down. and it pulsates inside your head, in your hands, you feel every muscle contraction as it happens, as if it happens in hours instead of seconds.
take that moment when you're sitting at the top of a roller coaster, looking out to the horizon. that moment where you pause for reflection because it's beautiful. and you're not thinking about the 100 foot drop you're about to take. the contents of your stomach making a encore in your throat. you don't see the drop, you don't see anything but the pleasant distance of the future ahead. take that moment and BAM.
if you could freeze that second where all your dreams of perfection and beauty and limitless possibilities turn into a screaming frightening shit show as you drop off the face of the world. if you could freeze that second and turn it into an hour, a day, a week. that's anxiety.
and it's a bitch.