Anxious Pacing

It can only be called strange, the act of not wanting to sit in the space you arranged for yourself. Walking away from it and continuing to walk to and fro, I always think about how far I would have walked if only I hadn't run out of floor in my room. 

Maybe I would've stopped completely since it's easier to tread the same track again and again than an unknown, endless one, much like how it's easier to overthink the same things than to look at alternate possibilities. 

Initially, when I wasn't accustomed to confusion, I’d stub my toe on some furniture, and that would end it. But lately, my body has become familiar with the space. 

If you relate, you must admit the title isn't all true. The pacing isn't always anxiety- sometimes it's to get your brain running through your footsteps, to break the monotony by movement, or to tire yourself out for a good sleep. 

But what if it is... 

A vague fear of nothingness in front of you. Of having everything you need right there but being afraid to make use of it, so you just take a few steps back, step out of your own life, and stare back at yourself. 

An out-of-body experience of sorts 

Anxiety doesn't look the same for everyone, obviously, but one thing in common is the pacing of thoughts in your head that makes you shake your leg restlessly, tap your pen against the table, hyperventilate, or order a stress ball off the internet. 

Or pace your room like you can walk out and shut the door on yourself, leave your mind behind, along with all its fears and worries. 

I think you and I should make a promise- the next time we feel like this, we'll either take a walk in nature or stay put and let our thoughts flow onto paper, canvas, or a friend who looks past your physicality to tell your soul, 'you'll be alright' and best we believe it.