Anxiety doesn’t always look like panic.
Sometimes it looks like orange bottles
lined up beside a life I’m still trying to live.
Anxiety tastes like metal and mornings.
So I swallow my survival
and keep my mouth pretty.
The window’s open.
Cool air smells like outside—
like childhood, like possibility.
I stare at the street
as if nothing is owed to me.
Not my past.
Not my future.
Just this breath.
Just this feeling.
I am free.
I am full of love.
I judge nothing.
#nostalgicfeelings
