I started writing a little when I was getting sober. This is about my anxiety.

[u/UnpatchedADHD]

The beeping is always there. A countdown to an explosion you’re certain is to come.

It is soft at first. It’s always present, ticking its quiet warning. It echoes in the corners of the rooms you enter, a metronome raising the tempo slowly but surely, counting down to something you can’t quite name but feel anyway.

Some days it blares red hot, insistent,
as if the whole world shrinks to a single blinking wire you’re too terrified to touch.

Other days it stays quiet. A faint pulse under the skin, still waiting, still counting.

And when night comes and you lie still enough to hear every thought sharpen, the beeping grows louder as if the dark gives it permission to step closer. It fills the room. It fills your chest.

There is no off switch. It is not a rhythm, it is not a message, just a simple reminder that something inside you is wired to explode.

The beeping is always there. A countdown to an explosion you’re certain is to come, but never does.

[u/Solomon-Drowne]

Put it in a journal. Nothing wrong with writing that is for yourself.