Knock, Knock…

Imagine you’re paranoid and filled with nerve wracking anxiety.  Your only weapon against this is two little pills that are increasingly hard to obtain because all your loved ones feel they are addictive and mind altering.   On top of this, you keep hearing what sounds like car doors shutting.  You run to the bedroom window and look out.  Nothing is there.  It happens again.  It begins to happen at what seems like increasing intervals.   Your social anxieties are piqued.  You don’t want visitors – not feeling like this.  You look out your other bedroom window at your neighbor’s house.  Nothing.  You sit back down to smoke and read.  The smoking helps.  It calms you and is comforting.   You hear it again though.  The car doors.  You cringe.  The anxiety begins to mount again.   You call your stern father just increasing the anxiety at the thought of bothering him at work, but you have no other recourse.  “You take two clonazepam at night and that is enough,” he says almost heartlessly and hangs up.   You smoke more and more and begin to pace the floor.  You feel better.  Nervous energy is being released.   Your favorite radio show is now playing on the radio.  There is talk of the cosmos and physics.  You begin to think you understand the fabric of time.  There is a giddy, tantalizing feeling as you pace faster.   Your legs balk, but you continue on.  You walked all day yesterday, but that doesn’t stop you.   Your dog watches on like you are crazy.  You start to feel better mile after mile.   The anxiety melts away as you grow exhausted.   You continue to walk anyway. It seems to be the only way to stay sane.  Thus is my reality this morning and for many mornings for the past few weeks.