Personal Narrative On Anxiety

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Anxiety. That is certainly what I was feeling. Packing up my life, as embarrassing simple as it was, and moving over 2,000 miles across the country was certainly not what I thought I would be doing two months ago, but here I am. The plane was getting ready to land in Colorado Springs and my new life was getting ready to start. My palms were sweaty, and it wasn’t from the temperature of the plane. I am typically not a anxious person. My friends would describe me as easygoing, outspoken and impulsive. Being a single twenty seven year old, I like to have fun. I work hard and play harder. I am comfortable in my own skin, something that I couldn’t say when I was twenty, but with age comes wisdom, and wisdom has told me not to give a shit …show more content…

Brent hadn’t noticed me yet as he was pacing back in fourth on the phone. Even though I hadn’t actually seen Brent in person for years, he was a huge since of comfort in my life. Walking towards him I couldn’t help but smile. His red hat was a little askew on his head and his dark brown, shaggy hair was sticking out the sides. He was wearing a yellow shirt that fit his muscular frame very nicely and black cargo shorts. His white socks were pulled up his shins and his black skateboard sneakers completed the look. As I approached closer, I could see the inter kit and beautiful tattoos that danced along his arms and peeked out the collar of his shirt. He had definitely gotten more ink since I last saw him. And more muscles. He was also just as handsome as always was. He strong jaw had just a dusting of dark stubble, and his eyes. He has always had the most amazing and intense sea green eyes. Eyes that looked right threw you into to your soul. Yes, Brent and I had always been friends. Just friends, but I could admit that he was hot, and it seems like he has only gotten …show more content…

“But in the mean time, it's my shop so, fuck what anyone else thinks.” he shrugged. “Ha. You’ve been trying to get me inked for the last ten years.” I laughed. “Well, working around tats all day, just might change your mind.” Brent smiled turning his head to look at me. “ We can be pretty convincing.” Brent was a brilliant artist. He had been drawing since before I could remember and starting working at a tattoo shop since high school. First, being a shop bitch, then being an apprentice. He went to art school after high school, but dropped out because he realized he didn’t need anyone telling him he could or could draw. He knew he was an artistic genius, so he went to school and got a business degree instead. After working his ass off, he manged to open up his own tattoo shop and from the sound of it he was doing pretty damn well for himself. I let a giggle escape my lips as I turned to look out the window. The surroundings, other then the rolling mountains, didn’t seem to different then Maine. The knots in my stomach where slowly unraveling and every minute that I was here and with Brent I knew my decision was right. “Where here.” Brent said excitedly as he turned into a large parking

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