At night, awake

3 am.

Wide awake, my hand grabs my phone, and I stare at the news feed without realising why.

As my eyes scan the words, it feels like a weight starts compressing on my chest. My breathing goes shallow.

Anxiety forms beads of cold sweat on my skin. I tremble, imagine the worst.

A realisation dawns. Me reading news doesn’t impact the fact that I would get the virus or not. It does impact how I feel.

My inner voice is firm.

Stop this. Go read. Sit up in your pillow, drink water, and read a novel. Something fun.

I grab my Kindle. My eyes go back and forth between the words, but nothing registers. Even re-reading a novel I love doesn’t help.

Anxiety buzzes in my ears, louder and louder. I give up and throw the Kindle aside.

Next, the iPad. My fingers find the button for a streaming service. Moments later I laugh myself silly at a show I love so much.

I know what will happen, but that doesn’t make me laugh less hard.

I needed that.

The episode ends. I put the iPad away, turn to my Kindle, and start reading again.

Suddenly sleep overtakes me, and I doze off, a smile on my face.

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