I am a hypochondriac. Worry is my middle name. If I wake in the morning feeling happy and peaceful, I will immediately do my best to put a stop to it. Be it “new freckle” or “cramp in my thigh,” I love to jump to the worst-case scenario.
Last week I thought I was going blind in my left eye. Turns out, I should take my eye makeup off before going to bed.
This “I’m sure God is going to kill me at any moment” personality quirk can be traced back to age eleven, when, before going to sleep one night, I had a long, tearful goodbye with my dog. Just in case one of us didn’t wake up. We both survived the night, but things were never really the same between us after that.
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