Ticking Clocks, Pounding Drums

The hour before I leave my notebook is a period of crippling anxiety. When I’ve no time to myself, I don’t mind. As soon as I get a little, I fear losing it. The fear of losing it paralyzes me, and then it would be just as well if I it had been lost already. The same thing happens to me when I think of my impending death.

3 thoughts on “Ticking Clocks, Pounding Drums

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