Anxiety.

Welcome to the 21st century in the Modern World. Everyone suffers from Anxiety. It isn't even a disorder anymore - it's a way of life, a state of being, a perpetual blossom. We breathe in anxiety and release..ourselves? Bits of ourselves I guess.

Anxiety, I thought, came from our jobs or friends or families or lack (or surplus) of money. It doesn't.
Because after all the paper clips are fixed securely in place and the laundry is folded and the dishes safely embrace the ceramic skin of their neighbours we're still left with palpitations and sweaty palms and quivering sighs and nervous lip bites.

We all dread the hours that pile on top of each other when we're left watching ourselves in the mirror in the mornings. Or when we've drained the last of our coffees and feel the dreadful emptiness of the cup. Or when we wait in line for hours while we watch the lady carefully count out the coins. And so we all want wings, big papery Icarus wings that carry us somewhere...else?

I think we want wings that carry us outside ourselves. I think Anxiety is the heavy, warm skin we keep around us. The sepulchrous, suffocating skin that keeps our toes in and our fears out.
I think we love our anxiety. It's humorous almost. I allow my anxiety to roller-coaster me into oblivion. I stay up at night, terrfied, petrified thinking of all the books I haven't read. There are so many interesting books. I want all of them. They say Milton was the last man to have read all the good books of his time. I think about this. I stay up thinking of all the places I haven't seen. Thinking of all the ocean waves I haven't touched. Of all the summers I missed during winter. Of all the winters I miss during summer.
So, we seek others to share our lot.
But I've been thinking...

I've been battling this feeling since I was a kid. I was a pretty impressionable kid with a bleeding heart and moist eyes and a huge imagination.
I love being alone but I'm anxious too. Why am I anxious being alone when I like it so much?

I think we're anxious because we love life too much. We want it all at once and we choke.
I think our anxiety is a good sign. It means we're here. It means we're aware. That we want more, that we should keep seeking more. And keep being thirsty all the time for more more more because there's no limit.

I've been listening to the Jane Eyre score. Close your eyes and leave it playing. Isn't it incredible?
I saw it on the plane coming here. It makes me think of the Roy Thompson Hall in Toronto and of King Street and of a huge dark English library with dark, polished veneers and thousands of books.
And it smells like the seaside. And I`m not afraid.