The sound of Christmas music filled the air. Its jolly notes coloring the day with limitless possibilities and anticipation, yet the music, drowned out by the numerous anxious thoughts rolling in my mind, received no appreciation.
Weighted and uncontrolled desperation fills my body. Its bloodthirsty fangs suck out any energy I had started the morning with, increasing the pressure in my frontal lobe, causing my eyes to throb.
Why does this happen whenever I speak to him about certain things?
His matter-of-fact statements, well-intended words, and constant concern stab at my fragile, still blooming confidence and wounds my small, already bruised ego.
Everything he says makes sense, but for some reason doesn’t feel right.
I know he means well, but that doesn’t mean I need to heed his advice.
My path is my own to follow, and just because it is different from his doesn’t mean I have lost my way.
