Of all the times that I crisscrossed my ways in bouts of anxiety;
From the uncertain morrows, like where I am going to reside or who I am going to spend my life with.
Of all the times that I spent obsessing over minute things;
From the “last seen” feature on WhatsApp or why I am always the last pick for invites.
Bah. What stupidity it must be.
If only I could go back, to my own self then, and tell her:
To find her calm,
And that those things do not matter;
To take life easy,
And that those things are nothing more than specks of unworthy irrelevance.
To breathe with each pulse of mornings,
That each day is nothing but a good day,
And that every day is nothing, nothing else but good.
It’s all going to be okay eventually,
And even if it isn’t,
It’s still very much okay.
Oh dear girl,
It is going to be just okay.
Oh my dear, dear girl,
It really is going to be just okay.