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Showing posts from December, 2015

and then there's Anxiety

Anxiety is like living next to a busy road and feeling responsibility for every car that goes past, even though you know each and every one is driven by someone else.

Somehow you can't stop listening. You are at home, the car is separate, the driver is separate: you are unlikely ever to meet and could pass them in the street without knowing. And still, here you are, paused in mid-step, face turned partly to the door, trying not to, trying to walk on, facing the noise.

You are inside your house and safe, yet you strain to hear the cars as they turn the corner at the end of the road. Your senses are acutely aware of the tyres squealing when this other driver decides to set off too quickly or speed. You know there is a tricky turn further down the next road and you hear more squealing as the brakes are applied.

and in your mind's eye

is every turn that can be made and each little danger just ahead of it
and then every big danger that exists in the worlds of 
Might Be or Conseque…