paperback writer
chronic anxiety is not helpful when your life turns to shit

Before, I was fear. Made up, filled up, up to the top with fear. Fear, with a capital F. Fear of distance, of closeness. Fear of breaking up, and of being with one person forever. Fear of change and of complacency. Fear of making the wrong choice, or of choosing at all. Fear of living and not just letting. Fear of comfort. Fear of fear overrunning my life.

Fear of being unafraid.

I was stuck in fear, never moving, always emoting. Circling in a dark ocean on one fin. And I don't know what is different, but something has shifted. At some point after this month and a half of pure hell, of everything and nothing going right, of jinxing myself every time I said well it can't get worse, I shifted.

I am still afraid, but I am ready.

I am twenty-four years old, and I am ready. The future can be my present.

It's going to be okay.


The current mood of bratnatch at www.imood.com
FIN. 10:39 p.m., Sunday, May. 16, 2010

ink :: graphite

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A work in Aberration.