At the ripe old age of 26, I've learned that you do not, in fact, get warts from worrying. I know this because I worry more than just about anyone I know, and I don't have the first wart. Which I am incredibly thankful for. The thought of visual consequences to worrying frightens me severely. I wouldn't consider myself to be a vain person, but I don't want to worry myself into a wrinkly wretched old woman. I worry about this.
I worry about: what I am, what I'm not, things I don't understand. You name it. I've probably worried about it. Now I'm worrying about what you'll propose I've worried about. It's a bit neurotic, really.
I love him with all my heart, but sometimes I worry that I'm too much like my father. How you can be so much like someone you barely know amazes me. Despite the lack of his presence in my life, genetics have taken their toll. I look just like him. I inherited his addictive personality. Though, my addictions are limited to: alphabetizing, art, cleaning, critters, nonalcoholic liquids(thank God), and people.
So, warts or no, I worry entirely too much.
What do you worry about? I might need to add it to my list.