Damn Anxiety, Social Anxiety, and Arnold David De la Cruz

A Stand-up Piece:

Title: Damn Anxiety, Social Anxiety, and Arnold David De la Cruz

There’s a stigma with mental illness. This thing that exists and affects millions of people, and what do we do instead of recognize its mere existence? We try to hide it under the carpet or something. You can still see the damn thing sticking out. But we still pretend it’s not there. “Uh, I see you.” I remember once someone knocking at my door. I seen shadows through the mosaic window.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Can we come in?” They all giggled.

“Who’s there?”

“Anxiety.”

“Shit!.” I whispered.

“We heard that.” They say together.

“Oh, sorry. Well, who else?”

“Social Anxiety.”

“Aw man, damn.”

“Hey, not cool, we heard that too.”

“Sorry. And who else?”

“Arnold David De la Cruz?” the last high pitch voiced said.

“Who?”

“Just kidding. It’s ADD.”

They all giggle again.

“What the hell do you all want?”

“Come on, can we come in and play?”

I pace around nervously. That’s the last thing I need in my life. I have enough stress and problems focusing and shit to dare invite these people into my life.

“Come on Daniel, it’s burning out here.”

I felt bad. Even though I was suspicious they were up to no good, I let them in, but on the condition that they chill out, and not be all over the place.

As soon as I let them in, Anxiety starts talking, and talking, and talking, raising up my blood pressure. ADD is walking all over the place, I can’t keep him to sit. I feel bad for Social Anxiety, because he’s just hanging out alone, no one to talk to.

Anxiety says she invited a friend. “What the hell, isn’t there a enough excitement here?” Her friend is Fear. “Oh shit!” Fear shows up, with a couple of other friends, “Shame and Regret!” They bring a group of chicks, who look more like prostitutes, short shorts like from the Nair commercials with obscenely big boobs.

It’s too much. The place becomes a circus. All I wanted to do was sit and write and focus. I remember my good friend who always seems to help, Meditation. I call, but he doesn’t pick up. “Damnit!” I can’t go on like this. Then I remember I have his secret cell. Immediately he shows up. “What’s the problem?”

“I can’t deal with this.”

“With what?”

I point behind me, and when I look, everyone is gone. There’s calmness, peace. I turn back, my friend Meditation is gone. Damn, another day in my crazy life.

©2014 POZOLE.ink

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