Tonight, we dine in Hell. Or Torchy’s. Whichever.

I feel…I don’t know.

Out of sorts, bitchy?
Like something is very awry.
Impending doom.

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Just a matter of time…

I am for the most part, very happy. Things are ongoing in my life that are full of awesome; there is a sense of a shell being stripped off and discarded. A recognition of needs and wants that I have suppressed due to a fear of…

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Ha, ha, ha. Isn’t anxiety fucking FUN?

You know, I don’t even have a name for it.  Just a fear, that paralyzed the whole of me.

But that sense of lack, of not enough, is starting to fade. It’s like taking off clothing decorated with 80# weights.

I can’t even begin to describe the relief.

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There’s a liiiiight…over at the Frankenstein place.
Wait. Wrong musical.

But today? Today, I am feeling like maybe those clothes are necessary.1 That I should be wearing those clothes. To hide. To be less. To be quiet, sit down, what the fuck do you THINK you are doing, you don’t deserve anything…blah blah blah, old tapes, ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

Seriously, Anxiety?
Knock it off.

We are fine. We are just approaching lightspeed.

This is just the pre-flight jitters, Self. These free floating bits of worry? Are just the nasty old tapes in your head breaking apart, disintegrating.

Approaching lightspeed.

1– I KNOW.

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5 thoughts on “Tonight, we dine in Hell. Or Torchy’s. Whichever.

  1. There’s got to be a Picard quote to fix this…

    “Engage.” just seems too obvious.

    You could take my Lit test for me, if you really need something to distract you from this feeling. I’m a giver like that.

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