Fears, Anxieties and Dreads

 

I worry that people will see my laugh-lines and assume that I’ve had it too easy all my life.

When I go to a urinal and someone else walks up at the same time but finishes WAY before I do, I worry that I might be peeing wrong.

I’ve got a gnawing anxiety that people will see the way that I walk as racist.

Is the music I listen to putting subliminal messages into my head or just the idea that they are doing that?

I fear that one day I’ll forget how to speak English but my friends won’t tell me because they’ll find it endearing.

I’m afraid that they will determine that I am to be the next Dalai Lama but that I’ll be away from my phone when they call.

I worry that the women who aren’t laughing at me are being laughed at by all other women…

I feel that, if my butter is spreadable, it must have some ulterior motive for being so.

I worry that one day everything I dread is going to happen to somebody that isn’t me, but a mad scientist is going to take my brain and put it in his body.  Also, he’ll be uglier than I am and he’ll spend all of my savings.

I often worry that a fire will start up in my home and my smoke detectors will be too polite to wake me.