Current Fears

• That my hairline is receding, which makes little sense because I have thick hair, but you know how, like, a hairline runs across the top of the forehead and then cuts back to these sort of empty areas at the part? Are those spaces getting bigger? Does everyone have those spaces? I should get on Facebook and look. Some people have them and some don’t and oh my god is too much of my hair falling out in the shower? And is hair falling out in the shower normal? Do I have cancer? I definitely have cancer. I definitely don’t have cancer. But I can’t know for sure because I don’t want to go to the doctor and ask if I have cancer because I don’t want to tell the doctor why I think I do, that I’m unsure of shower-hair and what a proper hairline looks like and is it getting harder to breathe? [Current Solution: Push my hair up in the mirror one to seventeen times a day, get too close to see, say out loud  “my forehead is too big for this,” and make little yelp-noises to calm my vanity]

• That my retainer will come loose in the night, lodge itself in my throat, and murder me (because I ignored it for three months)

• Snakes, large birds, or a combination of the two

• That my email outbox isn’t the liar I assume it to be and my lack of incoming mail is just cold rejection [Related fears: I am internet-invisible, ‘Tavis’ is too hard to type, or worse: Gmail still thinks my name is ‘Holidays in the United States’ so everyone assumes I am spam (canned, pink)] 

• That the NSA stopped reading my texts out of boredom

• That the guy who watches me do my laundry will steal my clothes or me

• That I’ll wake up one morning and not be able to speak and have no idea why 

• That my silence will make some people happy

• That I’ll develop any kind of food intolerance or allergy, which will certainly put me in the grave due to my lack of self control

• That I lack self control

• Sepsis, which I can’t really define but know is really bad 

• That I’m addicted to sugar [Current Solution: curl into an armchair and shake for three hours while demanding chocolate from anyone in a three mile vicinity]

• That one day I will accidentally summon “The Big One” after complaining almost constantly about never experiencing an earthquake

• The “Cloud”

• That the turkey I just ate, which smelled like feet and was “expired,” really was expired and in a few hours I’ll collapse with my phone just out of reach and instead of being saved by a cunning and fast working hospital staff (that I will later base the script for a TV show off of), I’ll instead be found hours later in a pool of my own vomit (on which I choked) [Current Solution: google “turkey food poisoning worst case scenario with pictures” & hope for the best]

• That the man who paces my stretch of Santa Monica Boulevard is a savant and I really will be stabbed by a giant icicle when El Niño comes

• That I’ll try kale and have nothing mean to say about it

• That I’ll never be used for my beauty, money, or lack thereof

• That the countdown clock at the self service car wash runs faster for me because it knows “time-based” is my most heart-stopping anxiety

• That I’ll get a job and everyone at the office will be so nice that I won’t have a work-enemy

• That the aforementioned guy who watches me do my laundry is a serial killer and I’ve been doomed to become a throw rug since the start 

• That the aforementioned guy who watches me do my laundry is just a nice, normal human guy and I am a terrible for thinking anything otherwise

• That the aforementioned guy who watches me do my laundry wants me to think that he’s just a nice, normal human guy and I am still doomed to be a throw rug 

• Bad cheese