Maybe that's something anxiety's good for: writing stories. Through this anxiousness I create alternate histories, whether I would like to or not. I worry about how life will turn out though I don't let myself think I'm worrying. I dwell on what the past wasn't and what it could have been, knowing full well that I can't change it.
What if the colonists and the natives were able to live in peace together? What if the West had sailed to the East? What if families weren't forced to convert or die? What if Constantinople hadn't been able to remember his dream? What if Hitler found a peaceful solution? What if Palestine was given equal support as Israel? What if Gorbachev had not torn down the wall? What if Yugoslavia remained united? What if Scotland had gained independence? What if everyone had voted in the last election? What if there was a solution to equality in voting precincts? What if gerrymandering didn't exist? What if everyone had an equal voice? What if there was no ice bucket challenge? What if Kanye didn't interrupt Taylor? What if Taylor Swift chose a different career path?
What if I don't pass field? What if I have to live in Texas for an extra year? What if I have to find a way to pay for school? What if I don't finish my homework? What if I quit my job? What if I am unable to show that I'm ready to return to my internship? What if they won't let me change to a different location? What if I really am broken? What if there's no cure for this life? What if I'm so needy that I can't live alone? What if something happens to my parents? What if people see my weaknesses? What if I'm more than just naive.
Some might be prompts for prose while others just seem to prolong the pain.