Annd once more my crippling fear of airplanes has cost me an opportunity in life. I see an airplane even on the ground and my lungs tighten and my chest burns. And I feel awful about fucking up something important for one of my best friends, and about having to drink before going into work so I don't break down crying about everything I feel responsible for lately, and for realising that now with my art gone, I don't have anything left. I have words that sound flat, pictures that blink lifeless up at me, hands that shake too much to paint more than a few moments, panic that chokes and crushes and exhausts but keeps me from sleep, indecisive blood that makes my shoulders twitch and my words stick to my tongue.

At least, the anxiety that generally overtakes when things touch my ankles, or my neck, has dropped a bit. Theres always that to be glad about.