My mind runs in circles, circles, circles. I don’t understand what’s happening. Soon, it isn’t even about whether I cried at Henry’s funeral anymore. Soon, I’m just worrying about how much I’m worrying. Then I start worrying about the fact that I’m worrying about worrying. Then I start worrying about worrying about worrying about worrying, and suddenly my mind feels so crowded, as if my thoughts aren’t filtering out in the way most thoughts do. As if something is blocking the exit. As if, rather than in and out of my mind in an orderly line, one thought replacing another, they linger. All of
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