Imagine

I'm not feeling well. I'm not sick.

I can't stop thinking about the attacks in Paris, especially at the rock concert. I've been to so many rock concerts - I love rock conerts. I had planned to buy a ticket for my next one today. I didn't. I imagine the horror, the fear and pain people must have been in. What if that had happened to me? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have survived. I don't feel like going to a concert. I know I'd be afraid, I couldn't really enjoy it. Maybe some time needs to pass.

But my inability to stop thinking about this horror has raised another concern: What if my depression starts again? Or maybe I'm developing a generalized anxiety disorder?

Some days ago I had a big scare when I couldn't reach my parents for a while. I couldn't work, I couldn't concentrate on anything else, I felt dizzy. I tried to tell myself that probably nothing was wrong, but I still had to think of so many terrible things. It turned out that the phone was broken and the mobile phone turned off.

I often worry about my parents. I greatly rely on them. I spend my holidays there. I feel at home with them. but my mum smokes and my dad sometimes drives recklessly. My grandma died this summer and now the next ones, the next generation to die is my parents. I can't imagine life without them.

And then I'm not feeling happy at work either. I don't like most of the people I have to work with. I started listening to the radio in order not to hear their bullshit talk. I want to look for a new job but during the week I'm too tired and on the weekend I end up doing other things.

I'm pretty fed up with the world at the moment. The climate change, the people at work, the terrorism, the stupidity, the violence. I'm fed up with being angry and being afraid, too.
I want to escape. I wish I had more time to read. Fiction is my escape.