Anxiety

The water runs grey.  It seems to run grey forever. I'm watching my life leave me, yet I cannot stand. I'm frozen, my neck at an odd angle, watching the grey waters rise. They crawl steadily forward, and without the means to scream or move or the willingness to pray for salvation I believe I shall die here. I sort of want to laugh, being so young and dying such an old person death. I close my eyes, ready to drown, ready to die. Then I am pulled back, forced to hover on the precipice,  the edge of death and insanity, forever.  And that is anxiety.