I am bound by my hips, but it changes as they unbind, relaxing enough to let my crossed legs ease toward the floor. I feel guilty for medicating because Anxiety isn’t something we label a disease yet, right? Everybody loves or everybody hates me, it’s my choice. I call sadness the one where I convince myself they hate me. I may do it first. Sometimes I find a point in the roller coaster ride where I feel like sharing my thoughts with you, or loving you, no difference. My attention is attached to joy. And I find my release so much more difficult.