It’s there, that… Obsessive urge.

Not the counting tiles and organizing my clothes by color, but the inability to let a thought or idea go. Must ride it out to its last possible position, must look at all angles, must examine it until I’m exhausted by my thoughts.

It feels clinical. An obsessive compulsive disorder, but only just. More like pessimistic ideations that fester. Anxiety that threatens to rot me from inside until I can’t breathe for thinking of the ways the world will end.

But I must… I must explore every mental avenue. God, I can’t stop the need to obsess about the possibilities even as it leaves me crippled with uncertainty. I am what anxiety looks like!

Just one more look, one more thought, one more scribble on my page to work out the details. What if it goes this way? What if I do this? What if things don’t go like I hope?

What if, what if, what if

I’ll go around until the next idea consumes me.


  1. I was having similar ideas and thoughts last night after reading your post and our comments last night, cara. Mr. was helping me process my ideas -every angle, every pleasure, every consequence. Every desire left unfulfilled.

    You capture it so perfectly.

I like it when you talk to me

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