So. Maybe we should have included index. I’m not that important.(“yet”) I guess.
I have anxiety. I’ve typed this paragraph multiple times. Because ..yeah. Anyway.
My anxiety feels like being in a room full of stiffling books and I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m drowning , on dry land. Like I constantly try to choose me but I make the wrong choice every time.
My anxiety feels like I keep making decisions that hurt me more than they make me. And sometimes I wanna go home , but what am I sacrificing. You.
Anyway. I’m anxious. But I’m also black.
I can’t cry.
I can’t complain.
I can’t talk back.
I have anxiety. But I’m black.
So . It’s silent.
Because you may have Anxiety..
But you’re black.
And I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I can’t help.
I’m sorry I can’t make it better.
Because I have anxiety too..
And I guess that doesn’t count yet.