This is familiar to you. And you&'ve emerged from it every time.
It begins as a whisper—a slight pulling at the margin of your awareness. a shadow stretching longer as the sun sets You try to ignore it, divert your mind elsewhere, concentrate on something else—anything else. Still, it lingers. gloom that weighs you
It begins as a whisper—a slight pulling at the margin of your awareness. a shadow stretching longer as the sun sets You try to ignore it, divert your mind elsewhere, concentrate on something else—anything else. Still, it lingers. gloom that weighs you
Possibly you know a conflict is coming; this is the weight of an incomplete chore, a message left without reply. Or maybe it is something less concrete—an unaccountable sorrow, a subdued fear squeezing around your chest. It doesn't declare itself stridently. Rather, it creeps in just like ink seeping into water, covering until it colors everything.
Possibly you know a conflict is coming; this is the weight of an incomplete chore, a message left without reply. Or maybe it is something less concrete—an unaccountable sorrow, a subdued fear squeezing around your chest. It doesn't declare itself stridently. Rather, it creeps in just like ink seeping into water, covering until it colors everything.
Possibly you know a conflict is coming; this is the weight of an incomplete chore, a message left without reply. Or maybe it is something less concrete—an unaccountable sorrow, a subdued fear squeezing around your chest. It doesn't declare itself stridently. Rather, it creeps in just like ink seeping into water, covering until it colors everything. verthinking. In your mind, the worst possibilities repeat like a broken record, looping indefinitely and becoming more distorted with every playback.
You try to rationalize it. "It's nothing," you remind yourself. "Just a passing mood," but rationale doesn't always surpass feeling. Your heart beats a little heavier, your stomach knots, and suddenly, you're caught in a spiral of overthinking. In your mind, the worst possibilities repeat like a broken record, looping indefinitely and becoming more distorted with every playback.
You try to rationalize it. "It's nothing," you remind yourself. "Just a passing mood," but rationale doesn't always surpass feeling. Your heart beats a little heavier, your stomach knots, and suddenly, you're caught in a spiral of overthinking. In your mind, the worst possibilities repeat like a broken record, looping indefinitely and becoming more distorted with every playback.
You question where it came from. You want to name it, define it, contain it, but it's elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand; a byproduct of fatigue and overanalysis or just another trick of the mind, a gut feeling you should heed?
You question where it came from. You want to name it, define it, contain it, but it's elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand; a byproduct of fatigue and overanalysis or just another trick of the mind, a gut feeling you should heed?
It begins to vanish then exactly as inconspicuously as it had arrived. Perhaps a familiar voice brings you back; perhaps a deep breath does. Perhaps you go outside and let the breeze remind you that the earth is still turning. The weight lessens; the ties unravel. It doesn't vanish completely, but you do notice something crucial:
It begins to vanish then exactly as inconspicuously as it had arrived. Perhaps a familiar voice brings you back; perhaps a deep breath does. Perhaps you go outside and let the breeze remind you that the earth is still turning. The weight lessens; the ties unravel. It doesn't vanish completely, but you do notice something crucial:
This is familiar to you. And you&'ve emerged from it every time.
This is familiar to you. And you&'ve emerged from it every time.
