Anxiety Cafe

I hate that wandering feeling sometimes. Okay, most of the time. Is this what freedom really is? To not have any ties to anything and to just be floating around? If such is the case, then I don't want full freedom. It is too much. So where does that leave me? Dreaming. Hoping. Waiting. Stressing. Basically it leaves me in Anxiety Cafe. A place I frequent all too often; whether by force or by choice. (Occasionally those two are the same thing.) The drink is bitter, the cuisine is bland and the bakery confections are hard as rocks. But oh how efficacious and intoxicating it all is!!! The addiction grows with each visit. Ever so slowly I am pulled into stagnancy and apathy. For I have grown to love my cafe and it is familiar to me. I love it with an ill affection.

Simultaneously I am driven to leave the comforts of my cafe and to venture outside. I reach the door, but linger. I look longingly at my table. Should I go or should I stay? Both pull at me. I long to leave but I greatly desire to stay. The cafe is safety and the doorway outside is risky--dangerous even. One of the greatest conundrums ensues. What am I to do?