Some days

Some days


I walk away from a dinner with friends

and scold myself, because something in me says


No, don’t leave me alone


with the thoughts

in my head.


You know those days


you wake up and it’s the same ideas over and over


same stimulus patterns

same prompts

same results. I travel down the well-worn path of


why are you upset?

What happened?


Why did you react the way you did

Was it justified what was the solution




I have the answer.


Good. Now


why are you upset


what happened—


…and ask:

why are we repeating ourselves?



I forget


How to stop the spinning


How to go to sleep


When nothing’s gone wrong and I know it

When I’m circling around the small things I could’ve done better


(Because I believe we can always get better)


Thinking Oh my god

Not this again


Keep on saying things out loud on accident


Surprised with their fervor.


(It is one of the best things about us, I think,

that there’s hope to always be better.)


Some days


I’ve forgotten

I’m whirling around





And then I trip

Fall off the wheel

See the sky, the moon.


See people talking


Someone complaining about her friend

Someone demanding “Did you treat her right?”

Someone curled around her phone on a staircase

People cheering on a plaza

Someone swaggering with a friend, loose, baggy black clothes, saying



And I’ll say to myself,



what it was.




I forget

What tipping into that state feels like


Like standing very still at the bathroom window and

Finding that the city sparkles


Like seeing the moon reflecting the sunlight

Huge and forever away and larger than us all


Seeing that this isn’t about me, my own world


It’s about everyone’s own world,


About every single person

Who’s created a tiny




Who’s crafted these unfathomable universes

(with all of the care they could possibly muster)

Whose selves are poured into keeping them alive





I think


we are the stories we tell ourselves,

and we are the centers of our stories.


The creators of immense complexity and beauty

Who care





And those days,

biking home in whichever country,


seeing what we have done

the houses and streets and lights

the history and creation and strength

Every single story, written every single day


I think




I remember.





ps, I don’t mean to worry people! Life’s excellent– it’s gotten busy, too, which is why my planned post about everything I’m up to has been a bit delayed :). This is just a post about random anxiety things, which I get every once in a while, but I think is interesting to talk and think about. Fingers crossed I’ll get to describe all of my projects I’m working on and all the cool things I’m learning this weekend, but it’ll probably be a Tuesday post with the way the deadlines are going :P. Thanks as always for reading!

One thought on “Some days

  1. I miss you. Really, I do. John said I don’t have to worry about you filling up the freezer any longer, but it’s weird not to have you there.


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