Breezy, Baby.

I can’t turn it off. I can’t turn the anxiety off. I can’t turn the anxiety off. I can’t turn the anxiety off. It never stops. The worrying, the need to be surrounded by emptiness. I fear being lonely but I like to be alone. I can’t turn the anxiety off.

I feel like I need to write more but I don’t know where to start, so here I am. My life has changed tremendously over the past year/two years and I haven’t documented a single moment in written form. I used to spend hours writing in worn-out journals in my basement bedroom at my parents house. I could fill a single notebook in just a couple of weeks. Where did that fire go? Sometimes I still feel it when I am driving alone in my car...a quick prose or a couple of lines come to mind and I try to repeat them over and over again so I don’t forget by the time I get home. I used to be so eager to feel my pen on a piece of paper, I want to feel that again. 

I threw you away. I walked out your door and I didn’t turn around, I should have turned around. I miss your face, your laugh, the way you held me in the morning, the sound of your heartbeat thumping into my ear. The heart that loved me truer than any heart had before. I threw you away and I don’t know why.

My mind is wandering and I need you to pull it back in.