The purity of the page

I’m such an overthinker, it’s ridiculous. I worry that my words aren’t ever enough. I worry that my neurosis will somehow spill out. I worry that my pain, past trauma and anxiety will smudge the purity of the page.

I worry that it’s all part of the worry, that sharing is egotistical, that I’m not equipped to even voice opinions or ideas. I’m worrying that one idea should be revolutionary, but too many little ones are too much.I worry endlessly about paragraphs, typos, punctuation, deadlines.

I worry that AI will come undercover of night and replace my frazzled brain with Will Smith’s, or my face with Will Self’s. I worry, but then remember everyone worries. Maybe I should cut down on the caffeine.