I’ve always been a compulsive worrier, but no one would think it. See, I have a kinda expressionless face, which hardly shows any emotion at all…so even though I’m such an emotional person, the most my face would show is a slightly hurt expression, or a smile that seems forced most of the time. It doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t feel anything, but I do have a problem with coming to terms with my feelings. There are times in my life when I just can’t feel anything at all, even though something important had happened. I guess I don’t have much strength to actually feel something that cannot be defined. So where was I? Oh yeah, worrying. Why do I worry about such stuff that doesn’t worry others? I write a poem, I worry about whether it will ever be finished, I make a new friend, I worry that I’ll lose him/her due to some misunderstanding, I worry about not being able to update my blog frequently, I worry about losing my sole grandparent; I worry about my cat getting lost, for heaven’s sake! Right now, my main worry is about my batch mates all going to India. My parents didn’t allow me to go, so I won’t be there to take care of them (he he, I’m a mothering type who made sure her friends showered every day on our o level trip to Islamabad, made sure none of them got lost in the hotel we visited, and cleared the floor of any tiny object they might trip on while dancing). I’ve gotten over the depressed stage where I dwelled on the fact that I wasn’t going, so now I’m worrying for no reason at all. Well, technically there isn’t any reason, but I could make up a thousand and one life-threatening experiences they might have to go through. And I’ll have no contact with them, so my imagination might as well go berserk thinking of all the danger they might go through. Although if one thinks about it, it’s India that’s really in danger.;)