First off, my level of anxiety continues to grow today. Little, tiny things are making me feel as though a bevy of bees are swelling and pinging the insides of my skin. There is a consistant, persistant buzzing in my ears. They stop just below my sternum, until someons says the wrong thing, or I think the wrong thing, and then they rise, rise, rise into my eyes.
Then, after they settle, the worn thin happens. The grey circles under my eyes grow and get warm, I feeel the need for nap. my skin is streatched taught over the mound of bees. There is very little to me except for the bees. I want to cuss; I want to punch; I want to hug. Who? Anyone.
Then the anger. There is no one to punch, no one to cuss, no one to hug. So, I do it to myself. And the anxiety starts again.
Three months. I can keep doing this job, living in this city, for another three months. After that, who knows, but no this.