every little thing disturbs my serenity
every thought ripples
i am not hungry
nor in danger of losing my life
but i am apprehensive
i am anxious
tranquility eludes me
in this luxurious state of mind i flounder
marking as progress my lack of flailing
not flailing is not failing
small steps
i think therefore i am not
i sit try to be still i breathe
the calm seems quiet too quiet
unwelcome thoughts creep in
i am unable to resist them
i am perhaps addicted to them
the silence is like cold turkey
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