worrying

I miss being young.

I was zoned out, wandering through my mental rolodex of memories when I realized that our worries define us. What we worry about says more about who we are than almost anything else.

THEN, I worried about the bottoms of my jeans being bleached from the salt on the ice in the winter.

I miss worrying about things like that. I miss high school, when my biggest worry was that my mother would find out. I don't like all the worrying I do now, and I don't like that it's all my own. I don't make sense. I give up.