Random #1: Anxiety

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Anxiety is the reason

I re-write a sentence a million times over; eventually abandoning my thoughts in favour of carefully managed silence; 

I jump from thought to thought; afraid to commit to one out of fear that it will bind me. 

I stare out at nothing, while every possibility, every fear, every hope flits through the open road of my subconsciouness, all at once in a chaotic sequence of order.

I shut down when asked how I really am; because how can I unleash the flood of emotion on an unsuspecting innocent? How can I ask them to take on a burden I have neglected? How can I demand more of them, than I am willing to give myself?

I can't believe in myself; why should I when there is always someone better than me, faster than me, smarter than me, more capable than me. Anxiety is the reason why I will never be enough, not even for myself. 

I find comfort in sameness, routine and predictability; Anxiety is the reason why the search for these things defines my life.

Anxiety is the reason

I never wrote all this in the first place. Because, why would anyone want to engage with me, when there are others who have expressed these feelings more eloquently. Any thing I might want to say, or do, would not add to the body of works chronicling the ontology of anxiety. In fact, I fear it may bloat the body. 

And so, I elect carefully managed silence. Because it is far easier than confronting the volume of anxiety. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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