I’m not very sure why I made this account, but you all seem nice enough. I don’t have a bad life. I have loving parents, an annoying brother, and many friends that love and care about me. So it isn’t really fair for me to complain, right? But every single day is filled with anxiety and fear that I will do something wrong. I am a perfectionist and someone who worries a little bit too much. My hands are shaking as I type this because I fear that it will be something that I will regret starting for the rest of my life. Oh. How typical of me. I am such a melodramatic teenager. And I will admit that I am, because I am that. Does that make sense? I’m talking gibberish now. I just wish I were more confident, more willing to share what is on my mind. I wish I could raise my hand and respond confidently to the teacher’s question without making sure that I absolutely, one hundred percent, know the answer. I wish I could talk to that one boy that I like without worrying what he will think of me thirty years later when he looks back and doesn’t even remember me. I wish that I had the confidence to tell that one girl in my class that she is an absolute, stuck-up snob who really needs to learn when to shut up. All of these are little things. More importantly, I wish I could just be happy with what I have and not have this burning anxiety in me. Yes, I know. I know that people have it worse than me. I know that so many people would love to have my life. I know that I am ungrateful of what I have. But at the same time, when you already have everything, there is always the opportunity to sulk on the far too many things that you do have.