I'm falling, falling falling and below the world is a twinkle of stars.

Falling Dreams

The dreams that scare me the most are the dreams in which I fall.

Nothing makes sense until that moment. Everything is a blur. And then I find myself walking, or running from or towards a destinations that still not clear and I find myself tumbling into darkness.

I always feel the impact. It shakes my heart.

Sometimes I'd find myself on ivy covered stairs. Their beautiful stone, like something you'd find in the a distant castle garden. There's a fairy tale hidden in the many places. I think in those dreams my fall is the most graceful. But the impact shudders me to the core.

When I wake in the darkness, clutching myself for support I always wonder how it is that the soul can crash harder than the body?

A Truly Perfect Day

I wish that I could have a truly perfect day. It wouldn't even consist of me doing anything extravagant, like fine dinners or world travel. I just want to be able to sit and write. Watch the sun rise. Watch it set. Laugh, read, cry if I have to, without the interruptions.

These ceaseless interruptions.

I woke this morning knowing that this would not be a perfect day.

The yells that came a couple of hours afterwards only helped to point this out.

I'm not tired. I slept well. A dreamless quiet sleep. I wish it could be like that when I'm awake. Quiet.

I wonder if the sky is quiet. I look towards it in those stressful moments and I never hear a reply to the questions I ask myself.

It's Saturday. I've rested. I'm up. I'm alive. I suppose this should be perfection. The fact that I even exist.

And yet.

All this noise only leaves me wishing.

I wish for a truly perfect day.

Introduction.

I am a chronic worrier.

I am victim to a mind that refuses to quit. I don't know if it is the thoughts that fuel my mind, or my mind that fuels these thoughts. What I do know, is that  I worry about the things I cannot change, the things I wish I could have changed and those things that have not yet happened. Days are spent playing out a pointless possibility. Life has become a series of scenarios, both factual and hypothetical. One part of me lives in the real world, doing real things, living a real life. Another part of me cannot help but worry about what could happen while I am out living life. Will I trip and embarrass myself? Where will that happen? What will I be wearing? What if I trip in front of many people? Will I ever see those people again? Will they recognize me? And on and on.  I can only watch without pause. I spend so much time thinking, that I barely enjoy the moment. And that is the problem. I want to enjoy the moment. Not think about it two days later and realize how much I could have enjoyed myself. It is like I am living vicariously through the experiences I'm barely aware I had. My worries and anxiety results in restless nights and stressful mornings. It is not acceptable to just accept a life full of the stress my mind continually conjures. So as an act of respite, I have decided that the only way to rid my mind of these anxious and frequently absurd thoughts is to purge them.

That is how this journal came to be.

I needed a way to chronicle these thoughts. I needed something to motivate me to let things go.

Quite often I find myself talking to an empty room, just to release all worry that has built up inside my busy head. Today I choose to write it down. In doing so I hope to reclaim my mind, my sanity, and my life.

It is like I have tunnel vision. All I can do is worry. That is all that falls into my sight. But around me there is so much more. There is life, there is light and I need to take it all in.


These are the words of a chronic worrier, looking to find solace in her own mind.