I'm not worried

There's this one... feeling. I can't get away from it, it just, well, happens sometimes. A lot. It follows me, it's like I'm walking around in circles chasing something that is inevitably chasing me. We'll never catch each other, we're at an impasse. The game isn't going as either of us planned. We're not happy about it and we want it to stop. Of course, then one of us would have to surrender to the other and ultimately admit defeat. We can't do that. We're stubborn. It can't be helped.

It hasn't always been like this, there was a compromise once. It would only unearth itself when it was really needed, when the situation called for it, when I wanted it, when it was true and real and meaningful. Now, it just pops up to say hello, ask how I am when it already knows the answer and then, for good measure, stay for tea, biscuits and then maybe dinner too. It was fine, at first. It didn't bother me too much, I could hide it or ignore it until it got bored and went away. But then, it took a liking to me, it acquired a taste. It became addicted.

Or maybe it was I who was addicted? Maybe, I liked the initial rush, the uncomfortable feeling, the flip-flops that were pattering around in my stomach, worn by invisible feet. I'd never really thought of it that way, or maybe I had, but I'd never entertained the thought. I'd just let it simmer in the pan, so much so that it evaporated, or burned, depending on what form it took. I would have eventually forgotten about it and that's how I ended up with this little piece of string. This string of words, thoughts, images - all about that one feeling. The circle continues. As ever.

Clean teeth. Pace for a bit, three minutes should do the trick. Get dressed.

The minty, white worm dropped from the tube onto my brush. It wasn't all white, of course, there was blue too. I slipped it into my mouth, always brush in circles.

I'm not entirely sure when the race began, the chasing of each other. I just remember that it wasn't always there. I had a theory once; I thought it came with maturity. But then another thought crossed the gaping ravine that coursed through the middle of my head, we were chasing each other in circles, never to stop, never to compromise, always to run, chase, run, chase - it was immature. It couldn't have grown with maturity. But then what?

I couldn't, can't, won't know. I just want it to stop; there is nothing in it for me. I gain nothing from it, it's selfish for me to want to but that's human nature. We want things, we take things, we destroy things and build again. We perform pointless rites and then condemn them even though we were their creators. We astound and we disgust. We feel things we don't want to feel and then we blame everyone else for our problems. That's all we are. Whining, muling, complaining, pestilent, abusive hypocrites. And yet, I find myself proud to be one. But there's still that... feeling.

The toothbrush now lay discarded, I had walked up and down the hallway several times now, milling over the boundless possibilities. The different avenues, the various strategies and more. It was time for clothes, preferably just pulled out of a drawer and thrown on, I have no one to impress, why bother?

Unless, of course, picking and choosing my clothing, making myself look good, actually caring about it for once just so happened to be the cure for my unusual ailment. That feeling. I doubt it. If it were that easy, it would have surrendered by now, we wouldn't be stuck in a whirl pool of stubbornness, and will to win. And yet, here we are, no amount of prettying is going to change that.

Clothing, done. Walk towards the door and out. Repeat until...

It's been a strange transition, an odd pattern of events but I am thankful for it, thankful for the one who gave it to me. I didn't think it would happen, but it did, though I know it won't last for long. It never does, not really. I'm glad of it now. While I have it, I am glad.

Just once, just this once, I can walk out of the door and exclaim, "I'm not worried."

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