Every memorable moment in my life has been mentally preserved to reminisce on. Whether it be the many first and last days of school or just laughing with my friends, there’s a special place for my souvenirs of significant stages and points of my life. Much like a scrapbook, it contains little entries for each major moment in my life, how I was feeling at the time, the general context for each memory, and what about it makes it so important.
For the first moment to be put in my now-digital scrapbook, I want to remember today. I’m currently sitting in bed, still in my pajamas, and stressing about the impending doom of tomorrow. Because, in all honesty, tomorrows terrify me. Even though my life is relatively mundane, and every day I repeat my predetermined schedule, the thought of new experiences and possible failure is frightening.
I always say I want some big change in my life to make it more interesting, but when the opportunity arises, I cower from it and am rendered useless in decision-making. Even in the simplest situations, I fear change. A few weeks ago, I cut my hair to just above shoulder length, a pretty minor change considering hair grows back. But it took me two months to make that decision, along with asking just about everyone in my contact list if it was a good idea.
Tomorrow can mean a lot of things. Some days, it means excitement for the weekend, and others, it means a dreadful, sinking feeling in my gut because of an upcoming test. The definition and connotation of tomorrow changes every single day, and yet every time, I’m scared of it because there is an indefinite list of ‘what ifs’ and things that can go wrong.
The definition and connotation of tomorrow changes every single day, and yet every time, I’m scared of it because there is an indefinite list of ‘what ifs’ and things that can go wrong.
What if I say the wrong thing and all my friends hate me? What if I fail a test and I can never get into college? What if I choose the wrong shirt and become the school pariah?
They may be insignificant concerns compared to everything happening around the world, but every night, my head is plagued with the fear of tomorrow. Right now, I am entirely embodied by that feeling. I have three tests tomorrow, and even though I’m prepared for all of them, I can’t rid myself of the nagging feeling that I’ll fail every single one. Chances are high that I’m not suddenly going to have to give an impromptu speech to the entire school tomorrow, but even while, rationaly, knowing this, I just can’t save myself from concocting these irrational situations.
Tomorrow may be my worst nightmare, but my brain is my worst enemy. The arbitrary thoughts that bring me nothing but anxiety help in no way, yet I’m constantly filled with that sense of self-doubt. Even in my sleep, I dream of all the worst-case scenarios for every situation.
What if I’m being chased by a dragon, and I can’t run fast enough? What if I become a famous musician and I forget the lyrics to my own song during the concert? What if it’s the year 3000, I’m a spaceship captain, and I accidentally land on the wrong planet?
These silly, childish, make-believe nightmares should’ve passed years ago, but in some ways, I’m still the same little kid afraid of the monster under the bed. It’s just that it’s taken on a new name: the future. I’m only 15 and worried about what I will have accomplished at 40. I’m a sophomore in high school, but I’m worried about what classes I will take in my senior year of college.
I have so much of my life ahead of me, and so much of it is spent afraid. So this year I’m going to look forward to the future without all the worry plaguing me. As easy as it is to fixate on the future, I’ll attempt to live in the present. The future I was so afraid of has shifted into the past, and this school year, I want to embrace the idea of tomorrow.
