The art of worrying, i’m the master.


I’m a worrier, I am, I know I am, I worry about everything, it’s part of me, I hate it, I love it, it makes me make the right decisions most of the time and I have come to terms with it.

I don’t know if it’s because I have some sort of social anxiety about things, like I deep down just always wanna do the right thing, I don’t wanna do anything wrong, frowned upon or bad, like morally, I’m not like irresponsible or anything, like I like a good beer, and I am far too easily persuaded to go out and just get mashed, no matter the consequences the next day, like I don’t really get bad hangovers like I used to, probably due to me point blank refusing to drink spirits now, I get the fear though big time.

The fear for anyone that hasn’t experienced it or heard the term is pretty simple, in my experience, I’ll get so blootered, I’ll proceed to make a fool of myself, I will walk home in the early hours screaming CELTIC, or I will talk to strangers, literally anyone, I’ll talk too much and tell people too much, I will be so overly soppy and embarrassing, I’ll just be a mess when I’m drunk. The next morning my eyes will snap open and the night before will play so fast through my head ill nearly send myself into a coma. I’ll pick a few of those moments out in fear that I have sent my life down a tunnel of self-destruction, like I’m not that bad, I just embarrass myself, I don’t like wreck stuff or get airy abusing people, it’s all solely personal to myself and my own self-esteem. Me and the girl I’m seeing need to message each other whenever we are out so we can at least see how bad, or not so bad stuff we have said the day after, like truly cringe things, I don’t regret any of it, it makes me properly chuckle but there is that brief moment when I am just staring in disbelief at how smooth I am not.

I think one of the main reasons I’m such a worrier is because of my folks, they didn’t put like loads of pressure on me growing up but I was always scared to disappoint them, I rarely got into trouble, I look up to my dad, he’s my role model, my idol if you will, he has taught me everything I know, and I respect everything about him, and I’m grateful and because of that I think I have a fear of disappointing, but that has extended to everyone, I don’t like disappointing people, ill go so far out of my way to do something for someone, and even if I don’t think I can do something ill push my hardest to do it, even if I fail people know I tried.

I do think I watch too much TV and movies though, like my life is like a sitcom in my head, my heads in the clouds, if I’m uncomfortable ill always try to find the funny side to something, and people seem to like that about me, a quality about me perhaps, but it’s just a coping mechanism. Don’t get me wrong I love comedy and I love that I can make people smile, but for the right reasons, I don’t wanna be a tit that people just laugh at rather than with. Like I live an ideal life in my head, then I scratch beneath the surface a little bit and think whats going off here, it like im on a constant acid trip but solely through my own delusion. (I don’t do drugs because I worry I’ll die, my family will find out and disown me, ill get addicted, ill waste al my money, the list goes on I worry.)

I overthink everything, and I get jealous, then I worry some more. “what if so and so is thinking this about me” “what if so and so is doing this behind my back”, I’m not like paranoid, girlfriends in the past have been blatant liars, the best one is, “I’m only friends with lads you just don’t trust me”. No, sorry hen, I trust you, but you know then you cheat on me. Or yeah, I trust you but you know I’m at work at your sat in my flat eating pizza chilling with one of your ‘lad mates’ that I have never met but just see you snapchatting all day. But I shouldn’t worry about that right. Fuck off. Honestly that shit doesn’t bother me looking back but why lie, why not just be like yeah, I like this guy now maybe we should all it a day, I’m not fucking Stevie Wonder I can see this isn’t working too.

That turned into a bit of a shitstorm sorry about that, now I’m worrying I have bored you with my terrible exes, and I don’t even know any of you.

Anyway, I’m a worrier, it’s me I accept it. I’m also happy as fuck though, like so fucking happy with my life right now. I talk consistently to possibly the nicest girl that I have ever had the pleasure to meet, the best listener, the best company, the most beautiful eyes, face smile, the works. She has a very good effect on me. Like so soothing, we can just chat for hours about literally fuck all but I wouldn’t change it or her for the world. But me being me, I have this constant anxiety that I will fuck it all up, constantly worrying that I am overstepping my boundaries, and I know she is sweet and kind, she will be alright with it but I still just worry that I’m gonna wreck it all with her.

To sum me up would be to say “oh that guy, always the worrier.”





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