This may be a journal entry
Next week will be riotous, I said. I can feel the claws of anxiety tickling the back of my neck, I thought. Oh it will be fine, I told myself, not really listening.
Occasionally my sanity takes leave. It doesn’t ask for permission. I only notice it when it’s gone. It always comes skulking back after a day or two, though.
What if it didn’t?
Next week will be fun, I tell myself.
Still not listening.
Far-fetched waves. I came across this phrase. Waves that have travelled a long distance to finally crash against the shore and dissipate. A bit like life.
Be as far-fetched as possible.
Stay away from the shore.