Bountiful Words, Beautiful World

or whatever.

I’ve decided anxiety is like living with a bear. Sometimes the bear sleeps. Sometimes something pokes the beast and it wakes up and sits on your chest because it can. You can feed it. But it’ll still be hungry again in an hour. It might hibernate, but it’s gonna come out of that den unless it’s dead. And anxiety bear is never dead. It’s an immortal animal. You can’t reason with it, cuz it’s a bear. You don’t get to set the pace at which the bear changes course and moves along. Again, it’s a bear. Sometimes it shits all over your house. Sometimes it blocks the doorway with its giant bear ass. Basically it’s an asshole. But it’s just an animal. It doesn’t have an agenda, it’s a bear. A big, stinking, kill you with one swipe, bear.