My brain is a prison, and anxiety is the warden. I am besieged by the undeniable urge to peel off my skin like it’s the layers of an onion until death claims me and I find relief in its cool embrace, and I know it took me a long time to finally call and I’m not 100 percent sure that this qualifies as an emergency, but I think I’ve reached my limit and I might need some help. Okay, sure, I’ll hold.
