I have a huge fear that one my husband will tell me that he no longer loves me. It won’t be because he lied or cheated on me, but because my anxiety is too much for him. Which doesn’t help because I can’t convince myself I’m not insane. And I feel like he sees me as a broken lunatic. I can’t get over the possibility that his tone in his voice changing in the most non existent way but I insist I can tell the difference. It triggers every panic, that is rooted deep in my overactive imagination who happens to be a spiteful little bitch that likes to see me squirm and push those close to me away. It’s in the calm moments I feel it most. When I’m finally content and I think that we couldn’t be anymore in love and that sharp jab of terror hits the sweet spot in the middle of my throat, closing in until I’m choking on make believe tribulations of waking up to him not talking to me over our morning coffee or telling me about his. I ask him and I push and prod his mind only making him frustrated towards me causing more painful scenarios playing in my head. I fear he will no longer looks at me the way he did the night of our first date, when we got enhanced, or our wedding day. It’s so vivid I can see the muscles through out my body contracting with pain and fear that I’m turning purple as I ask myself what? What is it that I fear? It’s the imaginary evils that sneak up and get me in the moments I least expect it. It’s the seconds of doubt that turn into gut-wrenching reservations and claustrophobic convulsing that drive me question how he feels and push him away like I’m doing him a favor and he couldn’t care either way.