Anxiety

I sit at my computer, my fingers hovering over the keyboard expectantly. I have opened a new window but I don’t recall where I was going to go. Someone walks by. My heart seizes in my chest as if I have done something wrong. The footsteps recede, and a massive adrenaline dump makes me woozy. I can barely see straight.

I worry about the last thing that came out of my mouth, twenty minutes ago. Worry that it may have been taken the wrong way. Worry that I gave something away I shouldn’t have. Worry I seemed stupid when I said it.

I open the new window on my computer again and freeze. What was it I wanted to do? I check the usual sites. Nothing has changed in the two minutes since I last checked.

My breathing is shallow. My heart, stopped only moments ago, now races to make up for lost beats. I feel a slow thud forming behind my left eye. I clench my fist around my pen. My knuckles don’t turn white; they are blood-red. I dig the pen into the flesh of my wrist until there is a large stain of blue ink there.

It will be hours until this goes away. Maybe until I wake up tomorrow. Worse, it could be days. This anxiety is going to kill me.

Alone

I match the gait of the person ahead of me. Step left, shuffle, step right, pause. My gaze is glued to the sticky concrete sidewalk. The flashing lights do not draw my eyes. A roar of conversation fills my ears, wrapping me in an anonymous cocoon. People yell across the crowd at each other, elbow each other, laugh and even sing bawdy songs. No one speaks to me. Though I don’t look up, I’m sure no one glances my way.

I pause as the Converse sneakers in front of me pause. I hold out my ID and allow my hand to get stamped without glancing up. I wait until a large group squeezes through the narrow black door, jostling each other and fighting for prominence. When the doorway clears, I enter the room.

A blast of loud music punches my chest, empties my lungs of air. I take a deep breath; I taste the sickly tang of smoke and sweat and alcohol. I make my way to the edge of the crowd and hover in a bubble of space that no one is willing to pop. I wrap my arms close to my chest and plunge into the crowd. I slide against sweaty arms long ponytails. I am invisible, short, unobtrusive. I make my way through the crowd between elbows and knees. I reach the center of the mob and pause. There is so little space here that I am being touched by four people around me. The music blares and the people around me scream to be heard. Some hold hands or touch each other lightly on the shoulder to be noticed.

I do none of these things.

I am utterly alone.

Leaving the larkspur

“I don’t know, Sissy,” said Starla. She brushed her blue hair from her eyes. “What if we get caught?”

Sissy fluttered her translucent wings impatiently. “Who cares?” she said. “We’ve never been out of the faery patch.”

Starla took flight and hovered uncertainly over the deep purple petals of her mother’s house in a tall, proud larkspur. It was one of a million in the hillside patch, but it was her favorite. She had hatched just a week and a half ago in this very larkspur.

“You know the larkspur doesn’t bloom forever, right?” Sissy said. “All the faeries will have to find new houses when the flowers turn brown. So we’d just be getting a head start.”

“Oh, all right,” Starla said.

The two tiny faeries took off together. Their wings made a faint buzzing sound, softer than a hummingbird. They passed ladybugs headed out to market and honey bees with pollen-speckled faces. They laughed as they spun higher and higher on a gentle updraft. Soon the vast larkspur forest was spread out below them like a green sky filled with deep purple stars.

Sissy took Starla’s hand. “Are you ready?” she cried over the rushing wind.

“Ready!”

They snatched at a passing dogwood petal and clung to it, screaming with glee. “Where will we land?” Starla yelled.

“Who knows? It could be anywhere!” Sissy replied.