It goes everywhere I go. It stares at me from the other side of restaurants. It sits next to me in the car. It trails behind me at school. It loiters at the kitchen table as I brew a cup of coffee. It sits on my shoulders, watching, waiting; always ready to pounce. It pokes and prods at my brain. It keeps poking at me until I finally break. Without notice, it drops ice down my spine; it churns my stomach, it hooks jumper cables to my heart, it makes sweat ooze from my pores. Sometimes it perches on my shoulder and just babbles at me all day, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else. It likes to be the center of my attention. Sometimes it is silent, still, but that is almost more worrying than when it goes berserk. In its silence, I wonder where it went and what it’s up to. The seemingly most random little things irritate it, and it freaks out, and it’s up to me to calm it down. It insists we don’t stay out too late. It drags me home early from parties. It whispers in my ear whenever I talk to someone new. It takes my hand and guides me along with it as it paces around the house. I know to avoid some of its triggers, but others seem inevitable. Nevertheless I’m stuck with it. It does nothing but pester me, but still I watch after it because once it calms down, it can actually be okay. Sometimes.