Worry is so much like a disease...
a repeating loop of a broken thought ...
It is a whisper that doesn't live in the here and now.... unfocused on solutions, or creativity or imagination.
It doesn't make plans, it doesn't seek light.
It is a self inflicted nightmare that feeds on its wounded self.
It is incorrectly given legitimacy, attention, and often confused with caring but it is the scent of demise... a bleeding soul.. Illness of will... a woeful fog that cannot produce anything other than misery.
Worst of all... is it contagious....
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