Hyperballad*

Some things never change.

It's coming again. That nauseaous, anxious pit in my stomach. That overwhelming sense to flee the scene and run like mad. That wanting to be anywhere but here. That urge to push someone--anyone. That desperation for an isolated breath of air.

"it's become a habit, a way to start the day..."

*one of my favorite Bjork songs. (And my old roommate Emily does an awesome acoustic version to it. I wish I could hear it again.)