I had a wonderful lunch today with a dear friend. A friend with whom I have not spent time since last December. The kind you swap random texts with and the distance between your visits, whether they are moments or months, doesn’t matter.
Upon returning to my apartment, the concierge called me asking if a delivery-person could be allowed up to give me my item. “Of course”, then i waited by the front door.
As I stood there peering through the eye hole, I considered how getting back home to my personal fortress of solitude filled me with content. Upon seeing the figure emerging from around the corner and turning to approach my door, my heart began racing as a chasm of fear formed in my gut.
My dear anxiety, you certainly are not the friend of which I was speaking.