I want to feel fearless, doubtless, confident.

I long to shed this skin of anxiety, working one small step at a time, to ultimately conquer the anxiety beast.

I try my best, but sometimes I slip up, and hide away, avoid, and stop trying.

Some days I feel strong.

Some days I barely feel at all except for anxiety-ridden thoughts.

Every day I hope for better.

Every baby step I come further,

Slipping backwards some moments.

If I keep this up,

It might take a while.


Photo from, by Wokandapix


Author: tiredmindtypingfingers

Writing about writing and chronic illness, and trying to make something out of it.

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