Cute

People say my anxiety is cute. The way I wring my hands, stutter over my words, jump at loud noises, and blush easily. The way I wring my hands, because if they weren't holding each other they'd be shaking, or even sub-consciously digging into my skin on a bad day. The way I stutter over my words, and stutter myself into a panic attack because I have no idea what the person on the opposite end thinks of me. The way I jump at loud noises, instantaneously filling with anxiety and the unshakable need to hide, survive. The way I blush easily, the redness of my cheeks signifying the onslaught of tears that wish to come, but never are allowed. How anxiety has overcome me to the point that even my own shame at my weakness can not coerce me into coming out. The way I'm so afraid of living. ...Adorable.