How long until the guilt for not doing anything wears off, is that a thing that can even happen, like a phantom limb i'm always reaching for something to occupy the space and time, the way a void screams to be filled and what if i just… let it scream? it's the expectation of constant motion, the pressure of always having to prove my worth, even to myself, and it's exhausting and exhilarating all at once to just… stop. i wonder if other people can feel the space opening up in their chest when they are not 'doing' something. and then the fear of what will grow to fill that space, not the work things, the to do's, but what else will creep in there, like ivy into an unkempt garden, what else will find space to bloom.