I reflect back to the years where my cousins and I would rush out of our houses on weekends, hoping to catch the ice cream truck before it departed from our street. Sometimes we would catch it just in time. The anticipation of tasting that first bite of the Oreo ice cream dessert popsicle that was bigger than my small hands was my only care in the world then. I wasn’t really worried about how the next day will go or how the bills would get paid, none of that. I would worry about eating it fast enough so it wouldn’t melt and become a sticky mess. I knew my mom would be so upset if I got my small dress filthy with sugary paradise. I loved that feeling. The feeling of catching the ice cream truck in time and the feeling of sitting with my cousins while each of us devoured our treats. Today, we’re living much differently. Im in college, pursuing a dream I am terrified of failing at it. I worry about how the next day will be, how my future will look. Truth is, I’ve always been one to worry. I worry about the small things, about how badly things can become and how one moment can affect my entire life. I worry about being okay; not the fake okay, the one that we all pretend to be in front of others.. I mean genuinely okay. My mind is like a roller coaster going through the motions, and I’m holding on tight, because everything is depending on me. But, is it wrong? Is it wrong to wish that I could go back to those weekends where I chased ice cream trucks, where I indulged in sugar without thinking of bad things, like diabetes, or healthy diets, or overindulgence. It was just so much better. Worrying about desserts and keeping my dresses sugar-free was so much better than worrying about life, how to overcome loss, and how to handle pain. I miss the sugar, and I miss the little worries. I miss it all.