The panic attacks come back in that unwelcome way like an ex that you never wanted to cross passes with again. Breathless constriction embraces my chest until my mind goes blurry and all I long for is to go numb. The anxiety snakes its way into my dreams and I wake with a start, heart racing, sweat criss-crossing patterns on the back of my neck. Perhaps I should not care what happens next. Even a writer cannot control the next chapter. The best I can do is turn the page and keep going.

But, the ever optimistic girl is worn out. Should I have not found that ever elusive peace by now?

Cough Syrup :: Young The Giant