I don't know what's going on, yet I suspect the culprit rests above. My mind is playing tricks on me. Is it the anticipation of love's arrival what's making me feel so overwhelmed? I don't know why I feel as if I'm in pain when everything is fine. Could I be going through social withdrawal? I come home, exhausted, and I look at my supportive wife who will do anything for me, and I feel so guilty for not being able to explain to her what's going on.
Will I be a fit papa? How am I going to bring a person into the world when I haven't sorted out my own shit, let alone everyone else's? Is this a panic attack? Life is good, what the fuck do I have to panic about?
This commute is unpleasant. I really think it's that. I can't bear to be so far from my family and I've even questioned, on what's certainly a daily basis, my decisions. Fuck, man, I've got to remain positive.
Do my happy dance, do my happy dance, do my happy dance...repeat.
