People Like Lists, Right?

Anyone with anxiety knows that the biggest threat to composure is having time to think. As a general rule, I like to give myself as little time to “think” as humanly possible, assuming that, in this instance, “think” means “obsess.”

This means that sometimes when I’m driving, I can’t listen to music, because music only serves as a soundtrack to my anxiety. So instead of just imagining that the slightly wobbly looking tire of the man driving in front of me is going to somehow lead to a bloody heap of twisted metal and carnage, I imagine these things with a score by Rilo Kiley. Continue reading “People Like Lists, Right?”

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