Anxiety

Anxiety is like a storm on the horizon—quiet at first, then suddenly all-consuming. It begins as a breeze whispering through the trees, unsettling the calm, stirring leaves that once rested peacefully. The sky darkens in your chest, and the air feels heavy with something unseen.

Inside, it’s like standing in a dense forest where every shadow looks like danger, every rustle feels like a threat. Your heart becomes a drum echoing through the silence, pounding faster as if chased by something your eyes can’t find.

The river of your thoughts runs wild—once clear and still, now swollen and rushing, pulling your calm away like fallen branches caught in the current. Even in stillness, your mind moves like wind through tall grass—never quiet, never still, always searching for something to brace against.

Yet just as nature endures its storms, so too can we. The clouds eventually pass. The trees stand tall again. And even the fiercest winds grow quiet when the sky is ready to clear.