Anxiety

The small details of life are really hard to capture with words.

My mouth just kind of gapes

and my arms flail, sort of gesturing for you

to come into my head and see for yourself.

Her hair was such a dull brown...

And the coffee, of quite the same color as her hair,

was—as it usually was—a bit too bitter.

And, as they usually do,

her eyes made me a little bit giddy...

but really—not so much.

Like an itty-bitty kid in a candy store,

but with a sweet tooth

that's a little bit too subdued.

“Well—this is great, but...”

But surely it's just me;

surely there are other colors out there

that are more vicious for those that want to see.

I mean, surely there's freedom

from the dizziness of being free.

But—

“What?”