BarelyAnything

Living with anxiety is like being followed by a voice. It knows all your insecurities and uses them against you. It gets to the point when it’s the loudest voice in the room. The only one you can hear.

Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.

Isn’t it strange that the same mind that brings war and devastation while laughing turns around to spin dreams of freedom and happiness out of black marks on white sheets?

It’s not what people do to you, but what they mean, that hurts.

We…need to forgive ourselves…For all the things we didn’t do. All the things we should have done. You can’t get stuck on the regrets of what should have happened.

I think people would be happier if they admitted things more often. In a sense we are all prisoners of some memory, or fear, or disappointment—we are all defined by something we can’t change.

Sometimes beautiful things come into our lives out of nowhere. We can’t always understand them, but we have to trust in them. I know you want to question everything, but sometimes it pays to just have a little faith.

Time scares me. A lot. How it can shape you into a better person, or someone whom you hate to be. How it may numb the pain that is given, or remind you of the pain no matter how long it takes. Time scares me. A whole lot. And I am starting to feel like I am running out of it.

My thoughts,

None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.