I guess I should’ve mentioned that a large part of my nervousness, anxiety, and extreme uprising of panic attacks has a lot to do with the fact that I have no idea why I am alive, why I am lucky enough to wake up in the morning and breathe fresh air and look at beautiful skies and feel cold breezes against my skin. Why I get to hug people, have people come into my life and change me and maybe I change them. Why I get to listen to music. Watch great movies. Experience things. Unfortunately, I’m letting all the wondering scare the shit out of me. I feel powerless. But I must have some sort of purpose. We all do.
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