She Is Done

 Chapter 51 in The Fade

            I believe that this one explains itself. I am tired of the past draining me till the well has run dry. The water inside is gone and all that remains is dust. 

            Anxiety and depression are a weird combination to have. 

            I don't really have much to say this time. I may go silent for a while. I am not feeling all that wonderful. The days are just kind of passing, and I'm just a helpless wanderer here. 

    

            I am afraid of just existing and not living. Going through the motions of life just to get by and not actually doing anything with this life I have. I wrote a book for fucks sake, and where am I with all of it? 

            Too afraid to put my voice out there in an audio version. Too terrified to reach out for help to get it out there to more people. Scared to have more people read the words I've written. Afraid of my truth. Afraid of putting myself out there. 

            But what is the point of anything that I have done if I do not do anything with it? It will just sit there collecting dust. Just as I lay here anxious. 

            I need to take a jump. I need to jump and stop being afraid of the fall.