A Portrait Of Anxiety Addiction - Miguel C. Kesey
I am a portrait of anxiety addiction. My frame is pretty, created to accentuate the work of art it surrounds, but does nothing but attract more attention. I am chipped and scratched, ink-stained and poisoned by light and air. My face is sharp from a distance, cracked and broken, the closer you get. A Seurat masterpiece, blurred and decaying, unclear and intense. My body an example of artist cramp. A blank canvas, unfinished and cold.
Anxiety is a comfort. At first it is a curse; but sooner or later, you need it. It will be : "I can't wait to get home and wallow in self-pity". It will be : "If I hide my face and cry to myself, I'll be ok." You need your fix. Humanity is your dealer, insult is your syringe, sadness is your tourniquet.