August 18, 2023

HS36 - W.I.P Woodrow in Progress

I come from a long line of worriers.   

Everyday, low-level worriers. Paranoid worriers. Worrier warriors.  

Over the generations, I think we’ve adapted our ticks in strange and less-than-wonderful ways to avoid being consumed by our enduring worry.

I can easily overwhelm worry with anger. But that’s a shit trade—like trading a black eye for a broken nose.

I can also keep worry very still with silence.  

I often try to sneak past worry with sheer momentum, which sometimes works, if I don’t overthink it. Other times, I try to drown it out by staying busy.   

And though I have experimented with a million ways to numb the hell out of worry, I’ve never left it behind. So now I’m an expert at hiding it when I want to. 

Worry, friends, is a waste of time. 

The scrap of a song I have for you today says so.  

Yours, 

JR

The Worrier
J.L.R.

I’ve been the dreamer streetfighter
I’ve been the chaser and the bottle
The pilot and the passenger
I’ve got peonies on my shoulder
And your name across my arm

Did I do you any harm?
Did I do you any harm
chasing after the moonglow?

Running wild after old ghosts
watching lovers turn into smoke- 
wishing I wasn’t 
The Worrier