Diary Of A Worrier

worrier-warrior

When I was born the nurse held me up to the light and proclaimed: “Congratulations, it’s a worrier!” It was the first word I learnt to spell, the first word I uttered in my cot, the first adjective I grasped with both hands and wrestled to the floor bare-fisted. My mum knew the truth the first time she took me to the park and saw the terror in my eyes at kids barely grasping metal bars and swinging. I just wanted to go home and read a book in solitude…
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