Anxiety is usually treated as something private. Personal. Internal. A chemical imbalance, a coping failure, a weakness you’re supposed to manage quietly. But anyone who has spent time in tense rooms, unstable institutions, or constantly panicked online spaces knows this explanation feels incomplete. Anxiety spreads. Not biologically, but socially. You can walk into a room and feel it before anyone speaks. Tight voices. Restless movement. Eyes scanning for threat. Nothing has

Smartphones no longer feel like tools. They feel like absence when they are missing. The anxiety of a lost phone is rarely about the device itself. It is about disorientation. Contacts disappear, memory fragments vanish, and coordination with the world collapses. When something so small can disrupt so much, it stops behaving like an object and starts behaving like a function.

We talk about personality as if it were permanent. You are introverted. You are ambitious. You are bad with people. The language is solid, almost geological, as though personality were something discovered rather than formed.