My little space on the web

I've been known as a worry wart.

Anyone who's ever known me long enough knows me for this. I'm infamous for it. At one point in time, I had so many worries that I had an ulcer (and for my age, that was considered dangerous and highly unusual).

Even in my teens, I had acne scars not really on my face but under my chin and my scalp. A dermatologist checked my diet, exercise routine, and water intake and blamed it all finally upon worrying.

But this time, I wonder, should the worrying stop over this matter?

It's something not small you see. It's something I see everyday.

Every single damn day.

Every time upon the clock, I realise that seconds, minutes and hours of my day drain away.

I try to lie to myself. I try to tell myself that really, I'm just afraid of work. That I'm afraid of going back to the office, of seeing the computer screen and picking up phone calls again.

The truth of the matter is, I'm scared of the tomorrow. I'm scared of the morning and what it brings. The end of a day. The closing of another day of my life, of having done nothing yet again, and bringing my days closer to my death.

Funny enough, I'm scared of death. Not scared of dying. I'm scared of regrets. Scared of being an under-achiever, of disappearing like another grain in the sands of time.

People try to tell me to look forward. But at this point, I don't see anything in front of me. I'm lost and I'm afraid. And ultimately, I wish I had some semblance of guidance.

If anyone, anything, any being up there is listening to me. Hear my plea?