A quick shower, clothes, a cigarette, and a languid gaze in the mirror – this day starts for someone {mangled}. The loss of comfort, thousands, no, [hundreds of thousands] of thoughts in your head tear the fabric of your consciousness into pieces, all thoroughly mixed into a unified cacophony where nothing can be distinguished. The body slowly ‹ falls apart ›, every day starting with a new malfunction. Attempting to delve into oneself only buries deeper into the ground. And the endless premonition of something terrible pushes to compete with Kilian Murphy in the contest for the "Most vacant gaze." Perhaps this is how I would describe Generalized Anxiety Disorder based on my experience.