On driving and anxiety and patience

On driving and anxiety and patience

That anxiety is the thing I hate the most about myself, more than my post-baby body, more than my sleep-deprived face, more than my growing collection of high elastic waistbands. I would love to be back in a city where I never have to drive, where you and I would just be ignoring each other on a subway. But here I am. And there you were, making me feel pathetic and useless.

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