I worry. I sin.

I wonder things. I ask things. I worry. I sin. Am I unlikeable? Do they have an excuse? Or have they just gotten tired of me and have decided I'm not worth their time? I want to know, to ask, but I'm scared of the truth. Maybe they don't care. I still have twitter, my letters, but... I worry. I sin. The constant "what if" goes through my mind. Should it matter? Should I care? I worry. I sin. Then I think, "Maybe they did, but it's anonymous." But why would it be public with the others and not with me? does it have to be a secret? Does it? I worry. I sin. Half of my anxiety attacks are brought on by worrying, I'm afraid it's partially my fault. I bring it on myself. Worrying is my Goliath. I worry. I sin.