Monday morning is not an emergency. Not unless, of course, your weekend is an attempt to stop living in reality.
Fear is the immediate and largely unavoidable psychotic episode of attempting to stop God by a rash and sudden idolatry.
Your age does not matter nearly so much as your times, and they not nearly so much as your God.
You are an immortal living in a temporary age of anti-truth. Why go quietly?
Till angel cry and trumpet sound,