By Gabriel Lyra
I have an anxious feeling growing inside my stomach spreading like water on a flat surface a virus in a weakened immune system trying to get out through my throat hitting the doors of my fingernails trying to escape through every tiny strand of hair giving me cold sweats all the way from my head to the nerves from my legs making every muscle come alive every next heartbeat stronger than the last one like drums coming closer and closer to my ears blocking my steady breathing feeding from the air from my lungs and the liquid in my veins making me lose track of the days of the weeks I’ve been falling and the hours, minutes I got left. I have an anxious feeling that someday this feeling is going to kill me.