Yup. Can't help myself. I'm a worrier.
If Sue walks to yoga, I worry about her getting mugged.
If she drives, I worry about some crazy drunk broadsiding her. If I have a headache, I swear it's a brain tumor. If Sue catches a cold, I'm convinced it's the end.
I worry about money. About not enough, and crazy: about too much and it will run out.
And I've actually gotten better over the years, but I'm still an insomniac, which I've been since I was a teenager. I remember so many late nights/early mornings sitting up in my bedroom on Lester Road, sitting on the edge of my bed looking out the window. I would spend a lot of those nights reading and writing.
Yep, I worry too much.
Sing it, Buddy.
Labels: buddy miller, I worry too much, insomnia, worry