Reset, readjust, restart, refocus.As many times as you need to.
Just don't quit!
Do something just for you every day which makes you feel good.
Take some me time to do whatever makes you happy, and create the habit of doing this every day.
By looking after your soul, it creates a ripple effect throughout your life, and others will benefit from the refreshed you.
Choose your feeling below
Apprehension tells you there could be a problem. It will help you seek out potential risks, don't ignore problem.
To hear the phrase "our only hope" always makes one anxious, because it means that if the only hope doesn't work, there is nothing left.
When you are in troubled and worried and sick at heartAnd your plans are upset and your world falls apart,Remember God's ready and waiting to shareThe burden you find much to heavy to bear--So with faith, "Let Go and Let GOD" lead your wayInto a brighter and less troubled day
When she absently worried her bottom lip with one of her adorable little fangs, he sighed.The Enemy of Old fucking sighed.Dear gods, it’d finally happened to him.Happiness.Then his own fangs sharpened.I will kill anyone who tries to take this feeling away from me.
What about the rest of your life?"She shrugged. "What about it?""Aren't you worried about, like, forever?""Forever is composed of nows," she says.
All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest. It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people. What should I talk about, how should I say it? - I don't know.
Don't look so worried. Most successful missions are just a series of barely averted disasters.
We are a society of notoriously unhappy people: lonely, anxious, depressed, destructive, dependent — people who are glad when we have killed the time we are trying so hard to save.
Death, my son, is a good thing for all men; it is the night for this worried day that we call life. It is in the sleep of death that finds rest for eternity the sickness, pain, desperation, and the fears that agitate, without end, we unhappy living souls.
She started thinking about all the euphemisms for death, all the anxious taboos that had always fascinated her. It was too bad you could never have an intelligent discussion on the subject. People were either too young or too old, or else they didn't have time.
Aunt Rosa, a fussy, angular, wild-eyed old lady, who had lived in a tremulous world of bad news, bankruptcies, train accidents, cancerous growths—until the Germans put her to death, together with all the people she had worried about.
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