So I've been having trouble sleeping lately. I think I have too much on my mind, like this attempt at a novel I'm writing, or the homework I don't do that actually has to be turned in (who ever heard of such a thing?), or maybe it's just because I have this terrible habit of thinking about the future. What will happen in four years? Where will I be?
You see, I have plans. And they will go accordingly. Or else.
The problem is, life really doesn't work that way.
Lately, I've been terrified that nothing will be what I want it to be. That I will fail at something, and everything will unravel. It is horrifying.
I fear that this terror will not subside, that I will live with this sunken secret for the rest of my life.
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