Sometimes worries take over and there is nothing else. I retreat from living and spend time alone with my troublesome worries. Even more troublesome is the fact that each individual worry is really nothing, nothing worth worrying about anyway, but they take over pretty quickly anyway.
I don’t write or blog or laugh or enjoy my favourite tv shows or read or plan or clean or do any of things that I really enjoy. I just worry. And it continues that way until I force myself to move. Force myself to clean the kitchen. Force myself to pick up the camera. Force my attention away from the magnitude of nothingness.
I would have thought that amongst all the work, cleaning and toddler wrangling, I wouldn’t have time for this type of worrying. But anxieties make time for themselves just fine. If only I could use their making time powers for good, instead of evil. If only. But they have no purpose.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a different personality. Because sometimes I could use a holiday from myself. I’m exhausting, sometimes. And then I can go for months without these random little worries creeping in and creating a mental whirlwind. I think too much. Or too much about the wrong things. Maybe I should just drink more. I’d kill some braincells and worry a little bit less. Because that sounds like a totally healthy plan.
But I am who I am and sometimes that just means I have to put up with being lost for a little while.
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My name is Zoey. 






























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