This past year has been one of trauma both new and old. At the forefront of said year, and this piece, was my anxiety. It was meant to show not only my panic at being touched, but also being seen. When I crumble under the weight of my own mind, so much so that it feels like I can't breathe, this is what I feel. It's like I'm being torn apart, not only by the abusers of my past, but by my own hands.