I don’t think I’ve ever experienced peace of mind.

I am always a little bit anxious or worried about something.

Horrific miscommunication that led to an argument five years ago? Thinking about it. 

Walking across a stage in two months? Forever on my mind.

Busting my lip open while walking into a door? Oh for sure.

I’m never calm. Ever.

Even when nothing’s pressing and I feel fine, there’s always something. And it’s weird because everyone that’s older than you tells you that you have nothing to worry about, and this is when you’re supposed to feel calm.

When do I get to that point where I can remember what it’s like to just have my heart beat in my chest instead of in my ears and stomach and the soles of my feet?

Do I have to wait to be wrinkly and brittle before everything finally starts to wind down, or will the screaming winds in my head keep whirling when I’m in my grave?

I don’t know about peace, but I’d at least let quiet suffice in the meantime. (Can I ever get any quiet?)

Even as a kid, I worried for everyone else. Did my friends fill out their reading logs? Was my older sister gonna get in trouble for jumping halfway off the staircase and getting hurt? Was the overfed, borderline feral, neighborhood stray okay?

Do worriers ever get peace of mind?