Heavy breathing, only stopped by the typing of these words. Anxiety. Anxiety attacks. Anxiety doesn’t wait for a break in the momentum of life. Anxiety rides the wave and slaps you in the face when you believe nothing could get worse. Anxiety meets her match when I write about her. She is calmed by the rhythmic sound of my poetry transporting from my finger tips to my cellular device. Anxiety relaxes and lets go of my throat for as long as I can keep these words flowing. I’m constantly taunted by the thoughts in the back of my head, the irrational fears that follow me to bed. It’s 1:06am and I stopped my anxiety attack by writing this poem. Thank you poetry, for once again saving me.