That Bitch Named Anxiety

Introduction

'Tossing and turning every night' was no longer a dramatic euphemism. This was an overused cliché that accurately described my current reality. I felt my body begin to shut down from pure physical exhaustion, while unease ran rampant in my mind, acting as a blockade for any real relaxation.

"What?" Clutching my fists, I sharply asked the relentless pestering voice nagging in the recesses of my mind. "What do you want from me, and why does it have to be right now? I have three hours to sleep."

"Because," My inner voice seemed to gradually take a physical form before my eyes as a tall, curvy blonde woman with a beautifully sculpted jawline, "you are actually worthless and you need to accept this about yourself. Forget any dreams that fool you into thinking you can succeed because they are incorrect and futile."

I rolled my eyes at this perfect specimen of a woman in front of me. "Don't you understand that I am very well aware of that? Do you think I actually like myself after every stupid action I've taken in life so far? I'm not bright, everyone knows this, myself included. It doesn't mean you need to rub it in, I really want to sleep."

Her stony expression didn't change. "Why would you need to sleep? Your mere existence is as unimpressive as your actions, so what purpose would sleep serve you or anyone else? You only live to disappoint, and lack of sleep will only aid you in this endeavor."

This felt like a valid point but I nonetheless clenched my jaw angrily. "At the very least I don't want to feel like complete garbage. Getting no sleep is medieval torture, okay? I may suck as a person but I think I probably don't deserve that."

"Debatable." She began to evaluate her own nails, seemingly out of boredom. "You have done more harm than good as a human overall, you were blessed with painfully average looks, an unimpressive intellect, and frankly little to no charm. I'm afraid this world doesn't have much use for you aside from contributing to the economy as a mindless consumer."

I laughed humorlessly. "Well since you are a part of me somehow, clearly I have a hidden gift for roasting people. Maybe I need sleep so I can tap into this talent."

Her countenance remained un-amused but she put her hands behind her back and started pacing slowly in front of me. "That talent only applies to interpreting yourself, not other people. Part of you being an overall failure is due to the fact that you only see the good in others and those dusty, rose-colored glasses often result in you getting screwed over. Often quite literally. Yes, I am calling you a whore. A godless whore, specifically. "

"Of course you are. Because you are the personification of evil and negative bullshit, and frankly if I listen to you then that only gives you more ammunition to use against me when I stupidly decide to talk to you again. Wanna know something? You're pretty and all, but this is why you wouldn't have any friends if you were real."

As I glared at her, she began to fade away, looking as snide as ever and I finally felt my breathing become more even and my eyelids become heavy. Everyday is a battle, but I can't let that bitch win.