It’s not anxiety.
It’s not butterflies.
It’s not too much coffee.
It’s not heartbreak.
It’s definitely not that bad feeling you supposedly have in the pit of your stomach when you claim to have great intuition.
Truthfully, it has nothing to do with your head or your heart.
Sternalism is the static trapped within your bones.
It’s a middle-state. It’s the result of the counteractive noise against your heartbeat, the echo through your rib cage.
It’s the relentless struggle between sentiment and emotion.
I came up with the term after waking up with a bluetooth speaker laying on my chest, franticaly buzzing from leaving it on too loud before somehow falling asleep one night.
Sternalism is poignant, but it’s muted; it brings on an immense sense of urgency. You can’t rationalize it. You can battle it, but you’ll never overcome it.
It weakens your spine, strains the back of your skull. It’s pseudo-paralyzing. There’s a hollowness to it, yet it still finds a way to resonate. It makes you sink. It causes tension in your arms, to the point that you think you’re going through an unexpected growth-spurt. You suddenly remember what it means to be nervous. You can’t clench your hands tight enough to stop them from shaking. It all races back to you.
It will never go away. It’s uncontrollably unforgettable.
Feels like a migraine.
The worst part : I’ll let sternalism in, every time.