I can see this in a worrisome mind that continues to conjure “what if’s” about life. For example: What if I get never get married? Then what? OR what if I screw up my job interview? Then what?

On the other hand, I am constantly plagued by the characters in my head who want their stories told: the emotionally abused woman who doesn’t realize her plight until her son dies in a Middle Eastern country, or the man whose proposal of marriage is accepted, but he never married and dies single while living in a hotel. These voices I never want to quiet. They expect me to tell their story, and I am willing to do it.