Monster lead me home

Anxiety sleeps somewhere in your brain. It’s there; curled up under a mess of blankets, dozing off until it isn’t. And then she open one eye sleepily. She stirs. Maybe she stretches. Sometimes she goes back to sleep without causing too much of a ruckus, turns over and pulls the blankets back over her head. Other times she wakes up energized and goes for a run. She makes you gasp for air. She stomps on your chest. She rocks back and forth in your gestures, your mannerisms.

Longing is quite similarly tucked under a blanket. He snores softly. He’s much gentler than Anxiety. He regards the world lazily from his seat in your chest. He spreads the warm blanket over you. Then he rips it off, he lets the cold rush in. He brushes feathers across your skin, in touches that aren’t really there. He sneaks around the corner, forever out of reach. He’s gentler because he doesn’t take your breath away. He simply holds your heart tight, in bone-crushing hugs. Sometimes unwelcome. Mostly just sad.