Sometimes I feel like any moment death will come at me from around the corner. I sit here, and I drink my non-alcoholic beer (I don’t really drink alcohol, and it’s good for relieving gas pain in my chest). I sit here in expectation every night, that death will finally show its head, and I will greet it with all of the sadness in my being.
I don’t know if it will be the death of my body, the death of my mind, the death of my word, or the death of my reputation, but I do feel its presence. Inside of 2 months, I have had three dozen anxiety attacks, more than half of them severe. Several of them debilitating. I feel like my mind is breaking up, but since there’s nothing I can do about it, I have decided, part of me anyway, to observe what is taking place.
Yesterday, I typed gibberish before I managed to get everything back on track. It wasn’t word salad, but was instead my typing in the wrong spaces on the keyboard, something I rarely do, having been using a computer keyboard for 25 years now. Yet on my screen was every letter to the opposite side of what I intended. What’s more, I didn’t even notice until I was finished with an entire paragraph of text.
The coming days and weeks should be fascinating.