Anxiety.
I have it.
A lot. More than a lot.
It's getting worse.
I can't sleep. I'm up all hours, thinking someone is going to break into the house. Or kill me. Or worse. My brain, it won't shut off. All of these things which couldn't possibly happen. Well, maybe they could, but not probably. And all of the lights--they better be on.
Gram thinks I keep leaving the lights on on accident.
It's not an accident.
I'm just scared out of my mind for no real reason.
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