Who Even Asked You?

Here’s my dilemma:

I am constantly anxious.

Why? Well maybe it’s work. Maybe it’s me “live at a moderate speed-die whenever” attitude. Maybe it’s the unfairness of life. Maybe it’s my addiction to anxiety. Maybe it’s none of the above, but let me spell it out for you.

The other day, the worst thing ever happened: Nobody texted me all day. 


My phone’s text-tone is R2-D2, but not happy “Boop-Beee” R2, but the one who’s circuits are frying. If you aren’t a Star Wars nerd, record yourself rapidly shaking a feral cat while listening to Donald Trump snort his way to the US Presidency, then jump into Garage Band and speed that audio up 4x. That’s what dying R2 sounds like. Not hard to miss! 


So for some reason, even though I hadn’t heard R2-D2 die all day, I still kept checking my phone. Over and over and over. BECAUSE I’M A MASOCHIST . Obviously nobody had texted me if I hadn’t heard the tone, but I had to remind myself of how lonely I was that day, and it made me ANXIOUS.

Did my friend hate me? Did I have friends? Was my phone broken? How could I breathe with no text messages?

So, to put myself out of my misery, I bit the bullet… and let me tell you, gun powder tastes like shit… and then I started messaging my friends, enemies, and people who’s numbers I’ve kept in my contacts for some insane reason or another for years upon years.

And then I waited… aka Anxiety.

& then it happened! My first text of the day! I responded so friken fast, the friction of my fingers set my phone on fire. Then came the second. Then came the third. Then the fourth. Then the 100th. Then the 1400th. I couldn’t respond fast enough. My fingers were still flying, but carpal tunnel was setting in. WHY IS TEXTING SO HARD.


After what seemed like my 10th hour of incessant texting, I began to sweat. Full on flop-sweat. Then my heart started pounding. Then my throat started clenching up. Oh shit… anxiety attack.

It seems like I am doomed for a life of anxiety. Like I am doomed to be unfulfilled and sweaty my entire life. WOE IS ME.

Oh, you have advice for me? That’s nice, but…


I’m very dedicated to my negativity. ***






*** Disclaimer: I’m not really this much of a Negative Nancy. That’s no fun… unless we are talking about HIV negative Nancy. That girl’s a riot.

One thought on “Who Even Asked You?

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