4am--bolt upright in bed. Anxiety. I don't know anything about what my company does--how can I possibly write about it? Do they expect me to know the style guide after only a week? My eyes glaze over when I read about economics--what if I really can't write about it because I'll never understand it?
So much to do for the wedding. And only 6 months to do it in. I want to get it all done *tomorrow* so that I can get back to sleep and not spend the next 6 months having anxiety attacks. I remember this feeling. I remember lying on my old couch, zoned on two Ativans, watching "Angels in America" on HBO and thinking, "Oh my god, I'm turning into Harper."
Scully sat on my feet and somehow I fell back to sleep.