I don’t usually dream…
…but when I do, I seem to be really good at fucking with my own head and heart. Rewriting those “what if” moments can be a pretty awful thing when the reality of the situation comes back into focus. Sometimes it’s shitty experiences from my 9-5 (no doubt stress induced) but the last one decided to reference anxiety which I don’t think I have such a good handle on. I can shrug off anger and annoyance fairly quickly, mostly because I find it tiresome and it ultimately achieves nothing. Anxiety on the other hand tends to bubble and gurgle for hours. It creeps up and mumbles half thoughts hoping to snag shards of attention with baited juicy alternatives.
Anyway in an effort to put this out of my mind I thought I would attempt to put it into words and then instead dwell on the the fact that I hate writing this shit. It began as a facebook post but I knew I would end up deleting it and I doubt many people I know personally pay much attention to this site so I’ll just let it sit here.
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