Hey. I wrote this piece of creative writing for World Mental Health Day last year ( hence the ‘;’ for the title). I wrote about anxiety because of personal reasons, but I believe that all mental illnesses deserve a voice, and should be shared with the world. And believe that most of the (negative) stigma around mental health should be altered. Therefore I wrote this. Just as a declaimer; I always write with an audience in mind, but some aspects of this may be upsetting. That being said, I have no will to upset or offend anyone. This is just my adaptation of what my anxiety sounds and feels like; everyone is different. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy. Clara.

Silence is deafening. Darkness is blinding. Warmth runs cold. Thoughts speak.


I’ll try not to be cliché, but that in itself amounts to some sick form of irony. Truth is, I’ve rewritten this over ten times already. That’s what they make you do; take what they believe for gospel. Religion has never been my strongest subject. Opposing myself is my favourite cliché. You may notice that most of what I am saying is not making much sense, this is a side effect. They make it difficult to express what it not meant to be expressed. Blindly seen. Silently heard. Whispers amongst the screams. If they had a voice, they’d be piercingly quiet. Their hands so cold, it burns, as i freely ensnare myself in their grasp.


I tried my hardest not to do what i did. But that’s the beautiful ugliness of clichés. They whisper sweet murder, and shout bitter happiness until you are open to the closed, and make you believe the unbelievable.

I realise, looking back on it in joyous horror, that it is irony I have created. Although, it is that perfect imperfection, which dully reflects them; overused, unimaginative clichés. I find it amusingly boring.


Confusion is clear. The ominous becomes predictable. Fear is a brave companion. Anxiety is always bold.


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