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What Makes Me Anxious

Piles of books scattered on my floor.
A spontaneous conversation in the corridor.
Not having the correct answer.
Cracks in my tough exterior.
Not having read all the books out there. 
Spilling my darkest secrets over a dare.
My heart, right after a good scare.
A task with no preparation, sends me to despair.
Walking down a crowded street,
not knowing where is the exit.
Being in the spotlight gets me livid.
Introducing myself gets me rigid.
Seeing the red and green call button.
A slightly open curtain.
The blinking green light of the signal.
Reading books that aren’t fictional.
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