At a high height, there’s always a moment where you feel that your toes are too close to the edge. You envision yourself lurching forward and immediately feel something stir in your veins. If only you could escape your body - your being, perhaps. Your skin is slowly and torturously caressed by invisible flames. You see your chest rising and falling, but on the inside, your lungs have been set ablaze. They are reduced to useless, brilliant embers. This - in its most hellish form - is anxiety.