Will Worry for England. (And France. And Spain. Quite possibly the whole of Europe. Oh and the rest of the world)

The future can seem so daunting at times. Who will I be in a year’s time? Will I get good exam results? Will I fall in love? It just confuses me more than anything when I think about the future. And I’m scared. Terrified. Quaking in my black fake leather boots. I had to firm my uni choices the other day and it took me about 3 hours to decide. I kept chopping and changing my mind – I’d only realised the other week I didn’t want to go to any of the universities I’d applied to. I wanted to go somewhere better. Then came my next worry. Evidently, I wasn’t going to get the grades. What if I had to take a gap year? I’d be stuck at home for another year while all my friends would be swanning off to university. You get the gist? I am an expert worrier. I worry about everything and anything. Will I ever become pretty? What if I boys don’t like me? What if I get ill again? Gah. I want to be one of those carefree people who take life a step at a time. More than anything I want to be happy. I want to be free.

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