The anxiety is crushing. It feels like a vacuum in the back of my chest that pulls my heart into the depths. It leaves an emptiness so hollow I could fly. The price of flying however is a burning sensation of a demon shredding my innards to be released into the world. Without even realizing it, I fly as a nervous reaction to the anxiety. And without realizing it I’ve started a war with the demon. It’s the inhaler that retains the demon. One puff of the medication starts a three way tug of war. While the demon and the medicine rage on each other it’s my body that takes the damage.
It’s my lungs that scream for the breath I can’t seem to catch. It’s my eyes that ache from the tears and the blindingly bright lights that reflect of them. It’s my finger that bleed from digging themselves into the closest thing they can burry themselves into. It’s my wrists that throb with scars of what were once bleeding cuts. It’s my mind that suffers the most however, being caught in the tug of war and not being able to do anything about it. Trying to tune out the inner voices and the outer voices and trying to keep completely sane while this war rages on. Trying to calm the rest of the body that is sure it’s going to go up in flames while the anxiety demon just keeps wreaking havoc on whatever it can get its grubby claws on.
But the true victim of it all is not the medication, the demon or even myself. No, it is the person I am with when the medication loses the battle and I won’t be able to keep the demon inside me any longer.