I like it.
That thing that makes you feel like there are bugs under your skin, crawling around biting your muscles until you use them to do something productive and worthwhile.
Those bugs are energy, and if not herded properly turn into a monster of anxiety, at least for me. They attack my hands and feet until they tingle numb, my heart until it skips several beats, my throat until I convince myself my swallower is broken, and I’m going to choke to death and die of a heart attack and limb paralysis all at the same time.
So when the bugs begin to swarm, train them. Ball them up, point them at your passion, and put them to work.
I write. I dance. I create an anxiety ant farm, and make those little shitheads carry words to my fingers and steps to my feet. Because if I don’t, they lay eggs in…
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