It’s not a cliff.
The fall is not so sudden.
It’s a Wood.
A copse of tangled trees so thick there is no sky. A dark, forbidding wood you wander into without knowing. See, it’s hidden within the normal trees, the safe trees, the rational trees.
The Wood of Irrational Fear looks no different than an innocent forest, where innocent worries run free and chatter with the squirrels.
Most people never stumble into the Wood.
Others are tied there.
I’m somewhere in between.
The Wood, it seems, is my true north. My panic-pocked mind drifts there naturally… although, my heart yearns for the sea.
Post-Note: This is chronic panic disorder. This is anxiety. This is my every day.