Anxiety is such an interesting emotion. Nothing can be trusted, but knowing this does not decrease the potency of my thoughts. I shiver and quake, eager for an inspiring distraction. Instead, I am pulled upwards by adrenaline. A levitating fresh applehead doll, dressed like a Salem witch trial juror.
I look away from the few pictures I have of those I loved most. I look away from everything. There is a fire somewhere in the city. Smoke covers the sky, and sticks to the lungs. I am aware it is not my fire. I will not speak at all these days. There is nothing to say. My feet are dirty, and that is proof enough I followed something down the line.
Sister is pregnant. She feeds her fetus a steady diet of nicotine, of meth, of the hatred she has developed for everything. The father-to-be does not care. He is washing his hands clean of this. One, two, three, four, who expected anything more!
The police have closed off a portion of the neighborhood. A man has barricaded himself in his home. He is threatening to kill himself. I can hear him clearly. His wife is pleading with him. Turn yourself in, everything will be fine, she says. I can feel their despair, and I do not want it. I have enough of my own.