Well,

Anxiety never ceases to enter my body. I can feel it race through my limbs, my veins with the core pulsing in my stomach. I feel like I could vomit, but nothing is in my stomach. It would be a hopeless comment if I was to say I'm fine, because I am not. However, whatever the outcome is, I will be okay. This, of course, is also composed of falseness and hopeless. I'm sorry. I can't do it. I really can't. I can't live without the touch, everything, your voice; it soothes me. It calms my feelings, my mind. Coming here was a mistake, a false accusation on my part. I want to go back to the way things were, but I looking at the situation now, that is impossible. All I want to say is I'm sorry or I'll do better, but those words cannot reach the center when there are rows and rows of walls blocking it. I am sorry. I can do better. I can be better. I will be better. Then again, mindless chatter.

I can.

I can't.

Please.

Just listen.

I probably can't,

but I will try.