A letter to my most anxious self,
I don’t know if you don’t know this, but I am not a fortune teller. I don’t know what the future, distant or immediate, holds for me or anyone else. I have no secret super power that allows me to peer through the irky murk of time in order to gain knowledge of my inevitable outcome. No crystal ball sits at the bottom of my sock drawer, waiting to be put to work. There’s no latent ability hiding in my head to skip past this journey/struggle and arrive at the destination. My mind pushes aside the present to fantasize about the future, and I end up missing out on both. I can’t recreate the moments I miss while building experiences in my head that never manifest in the world the way I expect. No amount of worrying, aggravation, or panic will be adequate preparation for what’s to come. So maybe just chill the fuck out, find something in the moment to enjoy, and let all the tomorrows come as they will.