The resistance

What is that part of us that sabotages? That sees a perfectly crisp sunny day as sadness. That lives in the world of doom, the next catastrophe that looms around the corner, just waiting for it, expecting it, even pulling for it. Causing it. Causing it? Yes, I live into doom in order to be RIGHT. To be right that things will fall apart. That we will not have enough money. That we will not be successful. And when it happens, I will be right. And I can celebrate in my own dungeon with candles and a cake, a rightness celebration, cheering on the proof that. Here it is. See. I am in the darkness of things not working out, see, I am right, it did go that way. And god that feels good to be right. To make someone else wrong. And I will live into doom to avoid being responsible. Dwell in the sadness, the dysfunctional nothing matters place, I can't do it, what's the point anyway, if I do anything, I will be rejected, laughed at, ridiculed for being stupid, not enough, NOT enough, never enough. What is enough? What is it to be enough. To be content, happy, to find joy. I can see that world behind this cloud. This world of fear, of anxiety. Let it be so I can be. Let it be. Sit with the fear. Let the anxiety burn itself out. Do not push it away, or it will hide and bleed up. Let it be. Sit in discomfort. Move towards discomfort. AAAAAHHHHH. Is RIGHT and avoidance worth this? Really? I do not want to let him go, this character, this constipated absent professor. Add moping. Add doomsday. Poor me. It seems so thin when I write it down. So pathetic, as if that's me. Really? Why hold on. A sadness in death, in letting go, a loss of familiarity. Someone I have been, have held close my whole life, what if I were to let him be, let him go. What would turn up? Who would turn up?