Maladaptive

Everyone was begging me to do something about my anxiety. So I got into meditation. So I mediate every day. It was all on them. Then it was all mine. Forever, all mine. As sad as it is, It gets less daunting over time. And more like- This is heavenly. And more like- I will live forever if I keep this up. For hours and hours, Then more hours. Then weeks go by, and it’s like- I don’t know what a week means anymore. I can’t remember what makes me weak, or what makes me strong. But it’s all good, it’s all healthy. And I don’t complain anymore. And they don’t complain anymore.