“Whatever is going to happen will happen, whether we worry or not.”
― Ana Monnar
I totally worry. A lot. About the stupidest things. And I’ll be the first to admit that I usually let it get to me. I am the queen of overthinking, and the master of self destruction.
It isn’t because I enjoy this, because trust me it annoys me to DEATH. But I can’t help but worry when my trust has been messed with so many times. Half the time, I get so freaked out and nervous and worry about the stupidest shit. Sometimes, it gets to the point where I start to feel like I’m actually insane and cannot justify why I’m freaking out, but then I chill out and justify it with a total bullshit reason. Except the “bullshit” reason is actually a decently good one in my opinion, other people just see it as stupid.
I get nervous about forgetting sunscreen because I had a third degree sunburn in high school and seriously damamged the skin around my shoulder and now have plenty of marks to show for it.
I get worried when my parents call me and start thinking of everything I could have possibly done wrong, because all too often I answer the phone to a “what the hell, Abby?!”
I get concerned when my boyfriend is still really good friends with his ex-girlfriends. Not because he’s enough of a jerk to do something terrible like cheat on me, but because every guy before him was.
Can you blame me for being like this?