Do Sharks Have Knees Part 2

My panic attacks had subsided to once every 70 odd hours, they fleetingly came and passed with my new found breathing procedures that allowed complete relaxation during and after. They began recently after the situation occurred, becoming an alarmingly regular part of my day-to-day life, though they seemed harmless waves of anxiety they exacerbated my social inabilities eventually making a distinct mark on my youth.

I assume it’s the same for everyone but when I have a panic attack the powerlessness and incompetence I feel at not being able to breathe and the sudden rush of fear as I think I’m going crazy angers me, it riles me up with the underlying notion that I should be able to control this anxiety.  Another aspect that allows me to become unnerved and angered is the source of the panic, the catalyst of the nervousness. It all comes from how I treated her, how I lost her, and now through no ones fault but my own, how I may never win her back. It is not through natural selection that this tragedy happened, it was not another male that had a much flashier and gaudier array of feathers that attracted her away, I might have been able to take that, it would be an arrangement I would seriously consider now. But no it was all down to me.

This way, I spend all my time contemplating how it was I that hurt her.  I’m not taking the punch from a 6ft rugby player named Taylor with perfect hair, a chiseled body and a fancy car that whisked her away (this guy has never been real but I’ve always feared that he will turn up one day) Instead I’m having a psychological boxing match with two opposing personas, in the red corner the confident part of me fuelled by an irrefutable alcohol binge, who after 5 pints becomes what can only be described as a pseudo intellectual that wont back down. In the blue corner someone who depicts one of Woody Allen’s neurotic characters, who would you put your money on winning? In hindsight the fight would probably be postponed after the drunkard commenced to chat up the ring girl and the neurotic mess struggled to take his Xanax while wearing the boxing gloves. I have decided to create my own genre for this nervous tale, a paranoid romance, and that unsettling part Is not something I consider a fitting enough beginning, I shall come back to the awkwardness that proceeded later on.