anxiety

I'm still carrying that rock in the pit of my stomach from the last time I ran to the camp of the enemy. I feel so sick. I look at the picture of Jesus at my computer and I feel so sick. I'm sorry for what I've done to You. Even though this always happens, I'm sorry. Even though I've said it before, I'm sorry.

I really don't want to be on time to church today. I just can't believe last Sunday's experience wasn't enough to inspire good behavior. I didn't even think about it though.

It's a massive stone taking up space in my stomach and its releasing a poison through my blood veins through my entire body. And I don't know if I can even talk to my bishop this time. I mean, I will. I know I will; I always do. It's just so much worse this time and I have a little something more to confess that I'd rather not. Ever. To anyone.

I need this out of my life.