at this point, i have surrendered my ground. my once firm foundation has disintegrated and found new soil. the new roots inside of me sprouted rather quickly and are now embedded so deep in me.
i have become anxiety's *****.
anxiety owns me. it has locked on my new collar with a tag labeled with my new identity. this collar chokes me of my words;no longer capable of speaking for myself, as for my owner, anxiety, grips my leash and controls my path. no freedom to be endeavored. to sniff something new, to attempt to expose myself to new territory, my owner yanks me back prohibiting me to any assortment of semi positive exposure. i am only allowed to **** and **** on this earth, followed by my owner picking up my mess. anxiety never forgets to remind me of the **** he picks up after me. a guilty moment is never just a passing breeze, its a constant wind directly in my face.
i am anxiety's ***** and he loves taking me on walks; it is my leisure time. some longer than others. but every walk has to come to an end, but i know that it is never the end. anxiety takes care of me, believe it or not. he picks up my ****, then feeds me so i am capable of taking another one sooner or later. its a routine. a sick, mind numbing game.