via: the internet
On anxiety:
I’m struggling with anxiety. This is not new news for me (or anyone in my family for that matter). Inherited from you dad? I’m not sure, but I’m not here to pass blame. You gave me thick hair (or maybe it was mom) and and an undying zest to be passionate-in something-in anything Still. I’m anxious. For what? I can’t tell you. For the flowers to bloom and then die again, for life to happen already, and then for it to slow down. I’m anxious for the sun to shine, and for the sleep to come. I’m anxious that all of this actually matters, but hope that it’s good anyway.
To step out.
To dive in.
Does anyone really know what to do?
Probably not.
