It can strike any time. Any where. About anything.
Is my face too round/narrow/cheesy?
Am I not a fun/friendly/cool person?
What if my book is all purple prose? How will I ever live down the horridness of that?
How do you deal with it?
Because I don’t. I can’t.
I turn off the world and eat ice cream. Usually it works. Other times it takes my mom to tell me to get out of the house before I finally get over myself.