I’ve always been slightly more paranoid than the average person. As an adult, I’m usually paranoid about rational things, like whether or not my house is going to get broken into if I leave the window cracked or if that cough sounds like cancer. As a child though, I got paranoid about somewhat more ridiculous things.
When I was around seven or eight my teacher gave an astronomy lesson. She talked about the life and death of stars, and then she dropped the bomb and told us that the sun, our sun, is a star and one day it would die. Of course this meant that I was constantly suspicious of the sun and its plans to explode.
Every so often I’d glance at the sun, wondering if the next minute would be the minute I would be plunged into darkness.
Eventually, I started to forget about my fear of the sun, but every so often, I look up, and I wonder.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully trust the sun.