The feeling of my feet pounding against the filthy sidewalk is hard and familiar. Empty coffee cups, unwanted direct mail, 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  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?
 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.
 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?