Am I Okay?

I have been listening to the same Italian woman sing to me for a week now. Over and over again she is in my head all day, what the hell. She is a physical obsession that stirs my dancing spirit, the spirit of sex and creation. She is Giorgia and she has next to nothing to do with the Middle East where I will be for a year starting next month. Again, what the hell? I can hardly focus on the tasks (the forms and emails and phone calls, workouts, studies, and classes) I have put before me, trying to accomplish something to prove only to myself that I am big and strong and talented and worth the dust that made me. When I fail these extreme tasks, or wake up perceiving myself inadequate and a plethora of other derogatory adjectives, I become overwhelmed with anxieties that sneak up my back like an old lover only to begin suffocating me for the fun of it. You see, I am in charge of teaching myself the Hebrew aleph bet and I have not looked at the script in days. I cannot remember for the life of me my Arabic verbs, and you know it’s my fault. I focus too much on the things I desire physically rather than intellectually.

My intellect beseech me as I you. We need to have a conversation. I feel lame in obsession. Unable to synthesize from it anything more than energies that I have yet the power of handling. However as I feed you, you let me learn. In that regard, I should be charged with undernourishment of the spirit.

My dear, you have so many goals and so many adventures to take and the only thing stopping you is yourself and your brain chemistry. Though with the existence of neuroplasticity your chemistry is your own to change. Do not fret, I ask of you nothing more than you can provide in its due time. You will learn to be all that you seek, one step at a time.

Alright, I may only need just a little help but yeah, I think I am okay.

 

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