ode to serotonin

The feeling of my feet pounding against the filthy sidewalk is hard and familiar. Empty coffee cups, unwanted direct mail[1], and other assorted refuse cover the ground. So many people have walked these very same steps before. Sometimes I walk so fast I feel like my legs are going to crumble beneath me and I’ll melt into this puddle of apprehension.

“Pace yourself, pace yourself” I say

“You’re going to get there, don’t make yourself sick”

My heart beats with anxiety and with the best intentions through my chest and the sound permeates through my blouse . I feel like the woman pushing her child in a stroller [2] can hear it from across the street. I’ve never been one to hide my emotions, it’s never been in my nature. I don’t know what has really changed aside from the seasons, waistline, and coping mechanisms.

When I’m told to relax I just don’t know how to compute such an idea. With a thousand different ideas about a thousand different things running through your head, how does one relax when you’re just in millions of different pieces

This is what I want to say when asked, “so how are you feeling today?”

We are all just slaves to our serotonin receptors, right?


 

[1] The amount of junk mail I throw out disgusts me. No, I don’t want to buy $100,000 worth of life insurance for the price of a cup of coffee a day, I’m not in that kind of mindset yet. I can’t comprehend things like this just yet, I’m turning 24 in about a week and am in no way ready for a quarter-life crisis.

 [2] Women with those “jogging strollers” make me nervous for their children. Although not quite as nervous as when I see a pregnant women in heels, it’s up there. Who okayed this?

 

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