Ever since I was a little kid, I always remember thinking I was missing out, that I was making the wrong decision. Or, more accurately, no matter *what* choice I were to make, the other would have been better/smarter/happier. Maybe it's because I don't know myself as well as I think? Or perhaps it's because I have no faith in my own endurance, ability, or capacity for newness.
And perhaps that distrust of self is at the root of all anxiety, all misery, and every sleepless night.