Dear Panic Attack,
Not-so-dear Panic Attack,
I have been wanting to tell this to you since I had my last panic attack a few days ago. First, let me ask you, do you like it this way, torturing people, setting in slowly and then coming in with full force? I had a whole week of passive panic-y state and then finally you attacked me with all you had. It took me four hours to calm myself from the initial blow, and then several more hours to function normally.
You’ve really got some talent. I have to admit. The way you start to build up in the pit of my stomach, and slowly crawl your way upwards, all the while increasing the deathly tingling in my body. I have to use up all my energy to manage the fierce grip of your claws clenching at my stomach. You think its not enough and go ahead and increase my heart rate, resulting in labored breathing. Then I slowly lose control over the rest of my body and am unable to do anything. I can’t focus. I can’t function. I can’t breathe.
On the top of it all, you are the most absurd thing that can ever happen to a person. When you are done, when the person comes back to his senses, you seem the most senseless. When you have successfully managed to make a person surrender to his fear, waste his precious time, which he could have used to actually come over the fear, you walk away. You walk away with a smirk on your face, leaving behind; loss. Loss of time, trust, confidence and calm. You walk away leaving a guilt that you came only to go back, but while you stayed, you managed to bring chaos. That you could have been managed.
Now, that you are gone, I am writing you a letter in a hope that you would learn that you are an unwelcome guest.
That you would learn I would learn to slam the door at your face whenever you come knocking at my door. I would not let your claws take a step inside. I would not let you take over my senses. I would manage.
There are no good wishes for you, they are only for me!