i. everyone keeps saying it's the hottest summer on record. you have your back pressed flat against the floor and a sweat drip in the crook of your elbow.
ii. generalized anxiety is seen as a disorder during the "ordinary" way of things. if someone were to ask you what specifically is bothering you, the answer is formless and senseless. you have a constant, physical sense of doom. it feels like a hand gripping your ribs. it feels like drowning, always, just-a-little bit. when you complain about it, your mother says - oh, you've been this way since you were a kid.
iii. but nothing is normal right now. what particular thing should you even focus on? your mind is in a terrible aperture, zooming in and out of the small and the large things. in some moments you can't breathe because of your rent bill and a breakup and your dog getting lyme disease. and then an hour later - you are overwhelmed by the shakiness of the whole world, by every person suffering, by the enormity of what is happening.
iv. you googled it. today's high was 94 degrees Fahrenheit (34.4C). it is ten degrees above average. a man on television laughs: but what if i want all of california to be under the sea?
v. how do you do therapy at the end of the world? your video-meet therapist is lovely and sweet and blonde and trying. sometimes you just say, "so... it's kind of just the everything that's happening." and then the two of you sit and stare at each other. more than once she's sighed and said, yeah. it's terrifying.
vi. things move so quickly now. you think about how your local school took six years to approve a new playground. now each day there is a development that makes your heart drop. sure, you can't afford rent this month, but - with everything happening, are you really doing enough?
vii. sometimes it feels like you cannot calculate priority - your body just reacts to each piece of information as an equivalent firecracker. money is tight, you need to get on food stamps, your car needs an inspection. and today another person got abducted. and there aren't any pollinators. and the bill passed the senate. when you try to shove it all into yourself - none of it fucking fits.
viii. you have seen almost no butterflies or bees or dragonflies this year. you go home and try not to overuse your AC. you are watching a debate about AI and water usage. the thousands of gallons wasted just so people can be fed misinformation. the man on television snorts. cry about it.
ix. you are constantly restless, sleepless, pacing. every one problem spirals into another, until they press into your temple and feed from your collarbones. you are trying so fucking hard to balance everything. and still! despite your efforts! it all just happens.
x. you aren't even in the "hot" part of summer yet, and it is ten degrees above average.
@nosebleedclub prompt: sweltering heat
