The year is 2017. Our phones are a full-on extension of our limbs, and, well, Donald Trump is the President. This equation means my daily free-floating, low-level anxiety isn’t so much cause for alarm as much as it is stating the obvious. To me, anxiety has become a bit of a “chicken or egg” thing: Was I always this anxious, and am I just now letting others in on it; or, in declaring it, does anxiety become more of a self-fulfilling prophecy?