Every breath I take reeks of calamity I start counting the biscuit bunnies I had yesterday. which sadly reach up to eight. Not my favourite number at all I look like an exploding fireball but despite that everything is dark and ruddy. like the insides of a trash bin . My hands are clammy, throat, a jammed highway of emotions! If I used ten thousand oceans as ink, and a million deserts as parchment, I would be unable to describe my pain for it was born a torchering antagonist, a piece of congealed blood in my lungs and my breath reeks of calamity.
On anxiety disorders such as ocd and panic attacks, social anxiety and depression. All of which I've suffered from (still struggling).