Some old writing from 2023

When I am lying down in my room, getting ready for a new day,  doing almost anything, I worry. I can’t help but start to think about all the things I did wrong that day, can’t help but remember and cringe at all the mistakes I made or things I believe I shouldn’t have done. My mom will lightly reprimand me sometimes and tell me just to enjoy life, but, I don’t know how that could be possible. No matter where I am, I worry constantly. Do the people around me actually like me? Am I wearing the right clothes? Did I laugh too loudly just then? I’m plagued by worries every day, like a never-ending sickness that I have had for the 15 years of my life. 

When I was younger, and could barely care about anything besides my own well-being, I remember clearly a day when I first was met with some form  of criticism. I was asked simply by a young boy who was about my age why I was speaking so loudly. A question that wasn't meant as an offense but rather asked out of pure curiosity.  I grew embarrassed and reminded myself daily to stop. Stop talking so loud, stop bringing so much attention to yourself. Something that I had never cared about grew to become the only thing I cared about whenever I was at school. That day, I realized what it meant to worry about something so greatly for the first time in my life. 

I worry that I worry too much sometimes. Does my excessive worrying make my life worse? Am I ruining my own life by worrying about so many things at once? I know that there will come a day when I won’t remember why I worried so much, why I was always concerned over the smallest of things. And yet, I still overthink daily, and although I can try my hardest not to think of anything worrying, my brain conjures more things for me to rethink about. 

Somedays, I hate having so much to think about. Having to stand in front of the mirror and wonder whether what I’m wearing looks good on me. If I should talk to that person, what to do if I’m ignored. Even when I know I shouldn’t worry about something so trivial such as talking to someone I already know, I freeze up, and my nervousness gets the best of me, like a wall separating me from everybody else, as if I am permanently blocked off from the rest of the world. Unable to get my voice out, I worry that people think I’m too quiet. That maybe when I’m unable to speak to people, I’m being judged–even when I know that isn’t always the case. 

I worry while writing this.