I’m awfully anxious these days. Even while making time to relax/detox, my brain springs forth an unceasing torrent of deprecation.

I feel I am meant to be doing something more and experiencing more, but I’m still stuck here. For once I’m not afraid to move, but now it seems I’m incapable… or not allowed.

Maybe I’m much to prideful, believing I deserve what I want before I’ve truly earned it… or it’s time to have it… or I simply want what isn’t mine to have.

I find myself connecting to certain songs I’ve always appreciated, but never fully internalized the meaning. It helps to know I’m not the only one to have ever wrestled with these thoughts.

There’s also a kind of proud excitement at this shifting of personal paradigm. It means I’m someone new again, a kind of mental molting.

It’s a season, I know. I must weather the dead of winter in hopes of what may sprout come spring. I’ve felt it before, this cycle of change, and find it less terrifying than before. Painful, yes, but how such strife pales in comparison to strides of wisdom and personal development.

Each spring I’ve emerged an improved self afforded the wealth of retrospection. Each plunge into the past only serves to confirm forward is best. As much as I may desire for certain elements of my younger selves, I can never convince myself it was better in totality.

My undying pursuit of the future, hoping for better days, believing the best has yet to come, will forever remain at my core.

Keep hoping, keep believing, keep living.


– MEW, 2019

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