I'm going to start at the beginning

I don't write formally.
More of a stream of consciousness. Keep up.

I'm angry.
You don't have the right to take away my life. You are not God or Allah or whoever you rejoice in the name of. It's not your choice. I'm glad police took you down.

I've always collected information. I want to know it all so I can make some sense of anything. This is the second time in my life that I remember I wanted it all to stop being thrown at me. I don't want to read, hear, see, live any stories of survivors or victims. I want to paint my world rosy with a dusting of glittery snow. It makes my heart hurt and I'm terrified that if I start feeling and crying that I may never stop. And I've cut off myself from feeling for so long. Since September 2001. That's when it started. That's when I turned it all off. The news, the papers, the commentary, the pain, the hatred. That's when the anxiety took over. When I took the meds to take over the anxiety.

The anxiety is still winning.

Someone asked me a few months ago what I'm so afraid of... Well, I'm afraid of winning. Of doing well. Of getting everything I've ever wanted. I'm afraid of being happy because I don't remember what it feels like to be peaceful and calm and contented.

I do remember how holding a baby slows my brain. Feeling my heartbeat settle into a steady rhythm that must create a gentle lullaby to soothe the child in my arms.

I keep thinking that tomorrow might be the day. I keep holding out hope and wishful thinking and praying that someone is going to come into my life to take away this ache. This feeling that nothing will be complete will finally be swept away. Maybe they won't. Maybe it'll just be me. Maybe that'll be just fine.