Anxiety is clingy and stubborn and breathes down your neck like some persistent
reminder of an ugly past and a future filled with monsters pretending to be people.

Those aren't people but monsters, that crowd across the room from you
laughing
they are laughing at you.

The worst is always the best thing to think about
(blue is really black the fate of life is death and yes, that image in the mirror
is yours, yours) because it prepares you for when it comes.
Or so you are convinced

because you have been living for too long with that monster
breathing down your neck.