Can’t stop myself from worrying about what might happen. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t have access to the future. I’m worrying. It’s coming at me in waves that only increase. It’s blocking all my ability to think about anything else that’s going on around me. Can’t stop it. I want to stop it, but I can’t. I’m trying though. I am pushing myself through something difficult. Every time the thought of worry arises in my head, I alter my focus on the pain I’m feeling in my workout. It’s not much, but it’s better than doing nothing about this. I won’t let it eat me alive. I have to remain strong in these moments. Someone has to, so if someone has to do it then let it be me. I’ll carry the weight of it. I’ll carry the negative feeling that I’m somehow neglecting my care for what’s going on. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just I know that if I sit and care about it… I’ll worry. There’s enough people worrying, someone has to stand strong and be a pillar to lean on. Let it be me.
It feels like the worry comes from nowhere—but it always has a source. Sometimes it’s just too fogged up to see clearly. But the weight is real. It clamps down on the chest, presses against the mind, narrows the field of thought until only fear remains. And yet, through that haze, I keep moving. Not because it’s easy. Not because I’m immune. But because I made a decision a long time ago: when the storm hits, I don’t retreat—I anchor.
Every time the worry returns, I return to something I can control. I don’t wrestle the thoughts, I redirect them. Into the ache of muscle. Into the rhythm of breath. Into whatever task is in front of me that lets me act instead of spiral. I’m not pretending the fear isn’t there—I’m just refusing to let it write the story. That’s what makes the Void Adventurer different. He knows he’s afraid… and keeps walking anyway.
Let the others worry. Let them sit in circles and tremble at what might come. But let me stand. Let me be the one who absorbs the storm and still carries forward. I may not have the answers. I may not even feel certain in this moment. But I know one thing for sure: I won’t let the unknown make me collapse. If someone has to hold the line, let it be me. Not because I feel like it—but because I chose it.
