For the first time in my life, I am choosing now over the promises of the future.
Becoming present with anxiety feels like letting the sun in. It feels like opening the curtains on the first day of spring and feeling the rays of the sun on your face, savoring it.
For those of us with anxiety, it can be hard to open up, because we feel like our anxiety is a burden or that people will label us as “too much” or “too sensitive.” Be too much. Be too sensitive.
Air fills my lungs. Light fills my eyes.
I don’t want to readjust my puzzle board. I am not ready to let go of the idea that people are born good and that they want to be good.
I will remember. Always.
You aren’t early and you aren’t late.
He was captivated by her light, like a moth and a dancing flame in the darkness of a quiet night.
She was the wind, ruffling the autumn oak leaves until they fell, leaving behind flashes of oranges, reds, and browns along clear blue sky.
You are the peace I think I don’t need.