Dead air. Silence sweeps through her body like stealth. Creeping closer with every second that goes by. She is calm right now, but who knows how long that will last. If it is quiet enough, her mind starts to wander. Her thoughts disappear into the wind. this is where anxiety kicks in. her chest tightens up, and her hands get cold and clammy. Paranoia and worry swims through her veins. She's too sensitive. Pain should be her middle name. That's all she feels. She feels everything. Some days don't seem real, some days she doesn't feel real. She will look in the mirror and stare for minutes at a time, sometimes a half hour will go by. Her soul is hiding in there somewhere, behind this cold glass. This girl's brown eyes stare back at her with a look of concern. She walks away from the mirror and sits back at her desk, picks up her pen and continues writing like theres no tomorrow.