It is a familiar darkness that looms over me on the long, dark days. A black dog trailing behind, shrouding me from the outside world. It wraps around me its ebony drenched tendrils, born out of the darkened mire of my mind. Here we lie, together, until tomorrow’s dawn splinters and light streaks through the fractures in the shadows. Our relationship is one with teeth and nails flaring; it lacks the simple presence of happiness, and yet still we cling to each other with deeply planted roots. This is how it feels to suffer with anxiety.