Enfissure

She stares at the screen, waiting, praying for the words to come.

She's been avoiding it for days. But it's been building, building, and she has to do it, has to get it over with.

Anything, anything. She can write about anything, so long as it captures the essence of her word, this word she has created: Enfusesure. Or should it be Enfission? It doesn't matter, it can't matter, because time is running out.

She's already scrapped two versions of a story about a failed proposal; it would be beautiful, really beautiful, if it it could only be a little longer.

She scrolls on her phone, trying to give her mind a break, even though she's only been at it for a short while. But no, there's no time for that! She has somewhere to be, and by the time she gets home, the deadline will be too-fast approaching.

She re-opens the tab for Vocal. How, how can she come up with a story to describe this word, this feeling? She knows it's a word worth having, believes others need this word. She feels it all the time, in fact she's feeling it now as she tries to determine what situation to use to describe it to others . . .

And then it hits her.

She types, she saves, she hits submit. And she waits for the tension to fade away.

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Ok, so it's a little obvious, but it's a very true story. In case anyone is wondering, "enfissure" is a combination of the words "engulfed," "fissure," and "pressure." When I experience strong emotions or stress, especially of a repetitive, confusing, or anxious nature, I tend to feel a tightness in my chest that feels like it just needs to break.