(alternative title: Ode to Anxiety)
I left the gas tank on empty
I didn’t tell you something bad was happening because I was more worried about telling you than the thing itself.
You’re not but I’m convinced you are
I over explained something in a meeting because nobody was nodding and so I just kept saying words.
I wanted to be firm without sounding like a dick. It didn’t work out.
I quoted Brene Brown one too many times.
I used words like ‘acquiesce’ and ‘perpetuity’ and you concluded that I’m an uppity bitch.
You’re not.
I donated that thing you haven’t used in years but now you’re trying to find it.
I told you I hate being interrupted after I interrupted you twice.
I’m really hungry and I’m making it your problem.
You aren’t but I’m taking things personally anyway.
I overshared. Again.
I laughed too loudly at a joke.
I cried at work. Again.
I…I can’t think of anything else.
You. Are. Not.