Some Kind of Perpetual State.

I'm in a worrying phase.

I don't know if fear is the right word anymore. It's very passive, blase. The definition just doesn't accurately summarize the empty ache I've been carrying in my right hand. The ever-present flutter of my outermost lash. That shit is bugging me. Fear seems so... fearful. Inactive. Lazily present.

And perhaps that ain't what I'm feeling. Worry seems lame too. Anxiety is too much of a diagnosis. I'm not there yet. No.

I been thinking about those closest to me. My mother, my lover, my child, few others. My legit-short list.

Some thoughts get more of my attention than does my work, my play, court-tv.
Some get more of my anxiety than others. It's the difference between lost sleep over love, and lost footing over a misplaced doll. It's a new kind of math, perhaps. Some things simply can be more easily over-come.
Out-run. Over-thought. #shit.

But... I won't be long-winded this go round and I need progress.
I think it's safe accurate to say: I'm feeling a certain kind of way.

My mom is too skinny. My job is a job. My man is uncertain. My child is observant. My ... other stuff too. Some ain't bad. This ain't (that) bad.

But I'm feeling some kind of way.

Right now. Today.