Last week a friend told me I perhaps suffer from an anxiety disorder. Promptly I googled the symptoms and I seem to ‘suffer’ from most of them, and not just once in a while, pretty often, enough to perhaps call it a ‘disorder’. It’s not that I ever doubted myself to be perfectly ‘normal’ but then again I thought, why? What am I so goddamn anxious about? The past that seems so inexplicable or the future that I can’t predict? May be both and neither, only to be coupled with an absolute inability to live in the present. The sheer inability to focus on the present which wouldn’t seem so troublesome if I were to evaluate it for what it’s worth rather than anticipate the dooms that my myopic vision is unequipped to grasp completely. While history repeats itself to the extent that we often make mistakes that we’ve made before, can I jeopardize every relationship or every venture with the baggage of my past?