Northstar Vale fire in my bones quakes

the day has brought with it an inexplicable, mounting anxiety; the feeling drives her onward with no clear direction or goal beyond somehow outrunning it, or at least exhausting herself past the point of feeling. she can't remember the last time she'd had a proper meal, or a full night of sleep — but those are not her goals. they haven't been her goals for awhile now. how can the state of her frail, withering body truly matter when her mind shatters and fragments itself against every stone presented? how can she be healthy if she is not sane?
the setting sun triggers a new sort of frenzy within the girl, an anxiety rooted so deeply in her chest that she freezes the moment the sky starts to dim. no, no, no — the day is over and it's wasted, she's wasted another day, another week, another year down the drain and she'll never fix herself. self-loathing fills her lungs like thick oil until she can only manage short, shallow breaths — and then the tears start, and she realizes she's really doing this. she's really going to stand in the middle of nowhere and cry for no reason. perfect.