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To the panic that erupts

I may have got better at squashing you, but I suspect you’ll always be there. Sometimes I wonder if you do in fact serve a purpose: whether you’re a warning of impending danger or a signal that all is not well. Mostly, though, I see you as a physical response to the mental explosions that people (or the sounds/smells they emit) cause within me. A sign, for me only, that it’s all too much.

You are a sign that my condition is about to overwhelm me. And I have to listen or I’ll become ‘one of those’ people. I look ‘normal’; I’m not – but keep that hidden.

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