For 29 years

I had a mild, extended anxiety attack today. That was fun. A kind of dull, barely palpable pain in my chest and a slight shortness of breath I've learned to associate with either pre-exam stress or a distant aftershock of heartbreak, suddenly emergent. I identified the immediate basis, but the feeling lasted - lapsing when I had company - until midnight, at least. Even though I was utterly certain I had nothing to feel anxious about. It dissolved only after some mental gymnastics which finally revealed other, underlying causes. All the necessary buttons got pressed and I'm fine and dandy now, but that was a fucked-up episode. I hate not knowing where my emotional responses come from.

I'm closing up. As if something kicked in, a latch fell into place, and I've begun nesting. Except I'm plugging the holes up with just me inside.

The observer worries, the glacial drift continues unaware and unabated.

Ana sent me this a short while ago, saying she heard it first when she was 29.

Out of words now.