To the nobody who is listening

I feel out of sorts. Right now, it feels like it would feel good to write something. Anything. Get something out. But then I just stare at the screen, doubting myself. What’s the point of writing? No one is reading. Maybe that is the point. I can get it out of me without judgement. But then, what am I trying to get out? Anxiety over the fact that my decisions are starting to catch up with me and I have to do something about them? Fear of letting go of things?  Worry about changing everything for my family? Sadness over something I shouldn’t be sad about? Reading way too far into things?

I’m not really sure what feels wrong but whatever it is is swirling around inside anyway.

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