He scrolls through Instagram. passing a post about Shawn Mendes. He notices how his hair is long now.
Anxiety: He stole your look.
Him: I am still who I am, and he is still who he is. We are our unique selves.
Anxiety: He's stealing your identity. You're unoriginal.
Him: There are 7 billion people, and many of them have brown, curly hair...mine is more curly than his.
Anxiety: You're worrying about a celebrity.
It read "seen." An email you sent, hasn't been responded to. Your counsellor told you that they see social media as a "demon." (silence) Anxiety: NO ONE LOVES YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU (silenc
Adrenaline pumps through you. Fight or flight. While you sit on a exercise ball, jumping up and down, while staring at a screen. Anxiety: I'm you. Fear: I'm you. Anxiety: You're me? Fear: You're me. A
He was typing, when he turned inward, and reflected. He: What if you're a good thing? Anxiety: The fuck? He: What if you keep my accountable? Anxiety: Sure? He: There needs to be a balance, cause you