I never wrote before the anxiety. Words never cleared my mind. Until one day they were all that did. Suddenly, the only way I could stop the spirals was organizing my thoughts, as if somehow, if they were organized written down, they would be organized in my head. 

In my family anything below an A isn’t just unacceptable, it's unheard of. Excellence is a requirement, not just in academics but every part of life. Doing something that is classified as “great” just earns me a sigh of relief, not a pat on the back. And I say I don’t care, I say nothing’s that deep, because that's what everyone wants me to say. But it is. Every statement, every action, I replay on the ceiling over and over again, a movie that is all too real. 

And then one day, the pot spilled over for the first time. 

My back slid down the wall as I crumpled into a ball. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, slowly intermingling with the free falling tears. My chest tightens as if a rubberband someone is pulling far too tight. Thousands of thoughts rush through my head, running every red light. 

Open my eyes and the world spins. 

Close my eyes and my mind spins.

I grip the floor desperately fighting to keep my fragile consciousness. Blindly I reach out grabbing my phone, as if it isn’t the source of half my problems. 

Breathe. 

Scrambling, I type in my password. What am I looking for? 

Breathe. 

All I need is a reprieve. In a state of complete disarray I open up the notes app and a recipe for cookies warmly greets me. 

Breathe. 

Opening a new note, I write. Write about all the assignments I have due. Write about how I don't know if they like me. Write about how it seems I'm disappointing everyone around me whatever I do. Write about how the version of me everyone sees is fake. Write about how my nonchalant persona isn’t real. Write about how in reality I make myself seem above everyone else purely so they never get close enough to see my weakness. 

I hate weakness. 

And then I'm okay. Suddenly, staring at the screen, it’s all organized. I understand myself when I write. I understand why I am the way I am and that makes everything okay. 

The notes app has become the person who knows me best. It is now littered with paragraphs written during these times of utter hopelessness. But, once written down, the moments fly away as if never really there. And then, I’m okay.