self-proclaimed fool.

The worry. It follows me around like a lost puppy, always in my mind and on my heel. I wonder what it takes to live a life without it, what a freedom it must be. I imagine the joy of not having to go through the motions of what a real anguish could burden me with... I imagine feeling like I am walking on air. Float through, keep your head high and wave down at those whom feel a right over you. Wave down at the worriers. Up there, it must be something out of this world. All dreams are possible. So what is to stop me of dreaming of no worry? I'm not asking for much... just the ability to walk through unscathed. I suppose in the realm of go-doers that dream might sound foolish. Self-proclaimed fool, I am. Just look at my track record? One foolish step after the other. I have a hundred when, why, what, who, where's... with no answers but the sound of my voice echoing off the walls on the inside of my skull.