I had been wanting to postpone writing this until next week. When I’d finally look at things in retrospect, hopefully write of nice things, of things I’ve learned; of being thankful for a new lease on life as some would say.
Turns out I can’t keep myself from thinking about it. A part of me keeps on saying that I’m just paranoid. I may be over reacting. After all, it’s merely the size of a pimple, the shape of a pin-head. Unseen, unnoticed, until last week.
It’s amazing how a simple lump can change everything. How I who always found it so easy to smile, now find it a chore. I may be just paranoid. I hope I’m just being paranoid. I’ve played it over and over in my head. How my doctor would jokingly say that I’ve been wasting my energy and thoughts over unnecessary anxiety. How I have been sulking, worrying, getting mentally/emotionally spent over nothing. It’s nothing to be worried about, she’ll say.
It’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing. It’s nothing.
Lord please. Let it be nothing.
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