The Envy of Icarus

I can't breathe.

Asthma would not exist as such a wall if panic for breath did not serve as it's foundation.

I feel as if I leave small fragments of my mind wherever I go. New medicine has gotten into my veins, and I am a crazy woman.

Crazy. Angry. Crazy.

I can feel it taking control of me and the surges of emotion towards everyone. I'm afraid no friends will be standing by the time the levels reach an acceptable level.

My biggest fear, however, is that I am scaring Mr. All Around. He's noticed a difference. I've noticed the worry in me that carries.

This is a chemical iron elephant following me around.

It's not even a major medicine. But my grades have covered their eyes and jumped off a cliff. Minor infractions against me resign themselves to vicious grudges and repeating nightmares.

The new found laughter that I have been taking for granted has asked for it's due.

I want it back. I don't want to scare Mr. All Around.That wrecks me. I want my grades back. I want to be able to enjoy myself. I don't want to hate everyone for being teenagers and gossiping and picking the better group to eat lunch with.

I crave the thrum of cicadas. I want to lie in a hammock and not have a single vibration of worry or anxiety upon the cerebral web. I want to be there and know where I am going, instead of remaining here and anxiously staring at the mailbox day to day.

I need the numbing rush of summer.

Heaven help me.

The things we do for insurance.