The initial onslaught of anxiety felt like an intellectual puzzle, a knot in my mind I could untangle with sheer force. I threw myself into the intricate dance of hard mathematics, hoping its logical precision would somehow quell the chaos within. When the numbers blurred and the anxiety persisted, I turned to the physical. Midnight became a ritual of strenuous pushups and pullups, each rep a desperate attempt to outmuscle the unease. For a while, the exhaustion offered a temporary reprieve, a heavy blanket muffling the internal storm. But the anxiety, a relentless adversary, grew stronger, mocking my efforts. No amount of intellectual or physical challenge could truly conquer it. Sleepless nights became the norm, and the strain began to etch itself onto my body, a slow creep of muscle atrophy.

Long walks and hikes offered a fleeting solace. Four or five hours spent traversing trails, breathing in the rhythm of nature, would momentarily ease the pressure. Yet, eventually, I'd find myself staring up at the vast expanse of the sky, a profound sense of bewilderment washing over me. What was going on inside me? There were moments of stark vulnerability – the sudden lurch of weird heartbeats, the feeling of falling, the helpless surrender of lying back and staring at the sun. It became clear, with a painful certainty, that these inner voids couldn't be outrun. And still, the urge to flee persists. The open road calls, the thumb extended in the hope of a ride, a hitchhiker seeking… I don't yet know what I'm trying to escape, or for how long this journey will last.