Angst Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t continue on this way. I can’t
stand it for one…more…moment.
    I lie back slowly on the cold hard cement floor, placing my
heavy balled up sweatshirt at my side, tears pouring down my face. I am sick,
distraught, tense, tight, bone tired, literally drowning under my own
craziness. The mantra is constant now, a constant thrum, a vibration in my
body.
    I turn my head toward the wall, grey on grey. My body is
twitching, somehow I am never still now. I crave peace. I seek the sleep of the
dead. I imagine sleep is what death is like. Quiet, peaceful, not aware of the
body, like a freedom I have never known.
    Death is the only way to quiet the thoughts, to stop my
body, to end my constant nightmare.
    #######################
    I’ve lost myself behind the panic. I cannot see my
reflection any longer. And as it takes over my brain I know I am helpless to
argue. I try to fight this losing battle. I thought I was stronger than the
monster, but the monster is eternal, it will never die. It lives within me; it
is a parasite and I am the host. I feed it unknowingly and in return it
consumes my brain. There will be no escape. Ever. I am doomed to a life of horror.
 An unending game of cat and mouse, but who will be the victor has yet to be
determined. Will it kill me or will I kill myself first? Either way, the
outcome is the same.

October 14, 2004
That guy was so g-damned hot
    Sitting in my car at the traffic light, my annoyingly loud
blinker ticking away, I look over at the large brick one story building to my
right. Work. Dread . As I turn into the busy car filled parking lot, the
store looms in front of me forebodingly, its windows hung with large colorful
posters advertising sales on fruit, canned goods, cereal. Today this place
is my prison . The one place I want to avoid when I’m feeling on edge. My
stomach contracts and I’m sure I am about to be sick. Damn . I really
don’t want to be going in to an eight hour shift on a Saturday.
    I pull into a parking spot in the employee section and
slowly get out of my disastrously dirty car. The day is sunny and cool and the
trees have all changed colors: reds, oranges, yellows, and the drive to work
was a visual pleasure, but not a mental one, since I spent the entire trip
worrying myself into a frenzy over another long day stuck in the courtesy booth
at work. Now hell is about to begin .
    Saturday afternoons and nights are usually pretty busy and I
don’t feel like dealing with cranky customers and the hectic end of night
closing procedures. With an exaggerated frowny face and tears pricking behind
my eyes, I reluctantly pull my name tag out of the glove box, close the door
with a bang and slowly make my way through the parking lot and inside the
bustling store. I’m trying not to think about my nerves or the fact that my
stomach has been acting up all day. It’s aching now, just enough to remind me
that I have issues.
    #######################
     “Hey, Victoria,” says the skinny young manager with greasy,
slicked-back hair as I swipe my card through the time clock.
    “Hey, Mr. Johnson,” I reply with a weary smile as I turn to
knock at the locked door to the courtesy booth. Tonight I’m working with Michelle,
someone I like and have worked with many times before. We always joke around
together, chiding each other, sharing stories, so I’m usually able to keep the
knife edge of terror out of my consciousness.
    “Hey, girl,” says Michelle, pulling open the door to let me
in to the tiny cream colored 10x10 booth.
    “Hey yourself,” I say with a grin, specifically remembering
a story she told me last time about one of the managers in the store flirting
with an employee. Michelle grimaces back. “What’s wrong?” I ask, gossip
forgotten, because the plump brunette usually has a huge smile for me.
    “Not feeling so good tonight, Vicky,” she says, leaning
against the counter in front of the glass between customer and booth attendant.
    “What’s wrong?” I