I am sitting in a nickel grey car surrounded by old daisies floating in a sea of black fabric. It is early in the morning. Blankets of fog are outlining sleepy trees. Mist-damped wisps of hair are clinging to my face. I am craving iced coffee and genuine attention.
I never been more sure about being unsure. And I think that’s okay. I will let my anxieties dissipate into the thick clouds of tiny water droplets coating the sunless sky, suspending them in the atmosphere and obscuring their visibility until it’s completely restricted — making way for a new day as my worries scatter across the earth’s surface and out of the grasp of my own two hands.