Lack of sleep. Anxiety does that to you. Where you toss and turn each night. She haunts you in nightmares - falling off a cliff in her bright red dress only to reappear by your side... a ghost.
She is your fear. Where the scale stares back at you with double digits - the last time you had even imagined being below 3-digits was in the 5th grade. But food does not tempt you anymore. Nothing tastes right.
You lick your lips, dry and chapped. Shriveled up prunes they are. Because of anxiety.
Anything you do to try and calm the storms just gets flushed away. Round and round it spins down the endless black hole. And you are once again left behind with...