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Friday, September 30, 2005
And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient, There is a cetain kind of anxiety that only comes at certain times with certain people. It makes your insides hurt with a fierce and frightening agony, and it jumpstarts your heart, causing it to beat so severely that you can feel it from your ankles to your eyebrows. It's the kind that makes you feel the need to apologize silently over and over to yourself for something that you didn't even do. It's the kind that, when you re-live the events over and over (and over and over and over) in your head for the next week or two or nine, makes you feel a desparate need to talk, loudly and quickly, in hopes that your ridiculous voice will drown out the incessant flow of horrible thoughts that won't seem to leave your head no matter how hard you try to force them out. This is the kind of anxiety that creeps up on you when you least expect it. You are sitting in the middle of physics, graphing instantaneous velocity, and something you see out of the corner of your eye will remind you of whatever horrid thing you did or said or thought, and you'll have to excuse yourself so that you can sit alone for awhile, breathless and stricken and grappling with your conscience, because for normal people this wouldn't be a problem. Normal people wouldn't run the same conversation over repeatedly in their heads, dissecting it and imagning all of the ghastly ways in which if could have been worse, but wasn't, or all of the million ways they could have saved themselves from the constant gut-wrenching horror that they feel all the time, but didn't. They wouldn't turn words around and pick them apart and destroy the memory of the event to the point where they look back upon it later and wonder which parts acctually happened, and which parts they made up. They wouldn't feel the overwhelming urge to go back and say one more thing or do one more thing or think one more thing with the hopes of redeeming themselves from the absurd and probably entirely imagined predicament that they think they have gotten themselves into. In reality, there is no predicament. To anyone else, there is nothing out of the ordinary. But you are convinced that you have just irreversably ruined your life, and nothing will ever be okay again. That's just how it goes. Hailey spazzed at 9:23:00 p.m. ***
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