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The Weight of...
Contain yourself, they may worry about you. Your pride is only fitted to what others identify it to exist as. Personally, filling my mind with credulous aspects of being pessimistic, it’s never the proper road to have yourself proceed. Unaware of the origin, some will capture this mental virus with no trace of appearance, or the steps necessary for its eradication. But yes, it’s awful to contain it, and it makes us question why it chose us out of the group, while there are so many others that rebuke and seem to be the ones that need to be struck upon by these unexplained setbacks. It’s just something I could always remember possessing, so I generally assumed that it was all from genetics. I mean, could it really?
I never followed through a stress-free intellect, nor have I ever reached that kind of approach. One could find me to be anxious about most things in life, and ask if I ever have this time to refract. They ask why I bring myself to this constant state of tension. I clearly don’t have an answer to that, even if my thoughts of bringing this mindset to a more tranquil realm are what I hope to magically wake up to one morning. It stops me from getting some of the things I need when it could really help me in long-term circumstances. I struggle to communicate, as I weigh myself to the little things that are unnecessary to worry about.
“I got to ask Mr. Lewis if I could write the paper over the weekend” I would proclaim to myself. Staring at Mr. Lewis as he does nothing but grade some papers after discussing the upcoming labs, I find myself to this division if I should go up or not. And, to be certain, I’ve always chosen to reject these certain ideas all because the negative aspects seem to be more tangible to my feelings, as if they fit like lock-and-key to my emotions. I stop looking over Mr. Lewis, and completely refrained from asking him about that extension for the paper. Then, that’s the time when I would “beat up” on my thoughts for the choice that it made me enact. I would constantly bash on my way of choice, and work up a constant anxiety over it, like this excessive grudge that was understandable for, let’s say, five seconds. But no, let it be for the rest of the day. Let it be for the rest of the week. Venting it to other people is never taking you a step ahead.
You can’t let your mind make the best of you at a younger age. If you fail to make the choices that “you” want, you could never decide for yourself on certain things, as you let emotions decide for you. I’m a very indecisive person naturally, and I always was the child to let my mother and father decide what is best for me. I never took a glance at what I desired, because it usually lead to these vexations. I never wanted to disappoint the family with my mistakes due to using my undeveloped mind on if I should touch the elements of the stove or not, oblivious to the heat that it could have if they’re on or not. I understand everyone was at those kinds of points in life, and it’s necessary to learn from roving and exploring things on your own at times. However, there comes this age, where punishment is never a thing anymore, because you don’t live in the household that where family preaches on discipline. You can now do things on your own. I’m afraid for that day when I leave the home.
I’m always deluded into thinking it’s something that I can get rid of it if I can contain myself and not think about it, but it’s nearly impossible. How can you get rid of something that you remember having even when you were younger and find yourself etching as your sitting in the cafeteria with your elementary school friends? It’s haunting some days, and I just want to scream the constant anxiety out of me, because it prevents me from making the next moves of the day. I really miss choosing what I want to do for myself, yet I don’t remember choosing something without my inner dialogue being involved. So, when you see me sitting with my friends, and I appear to wander into another world, just know that it’s something that I go through every day to search for my way out of this virus to the brain. Even though these choices from the brain should be from me, the emotional realm of my brain seems to have its own judgement, and leads me to sadness to know that I can’t steer it to the right direction. I rely on others to do it for me, and it brings me to more of this guilt.
Don’t be ashamed of it, because everyone has a flaw. Even if this is unexplained, like some cancers that appear out of thin air, you always have to traverse around it. I got so used to it, that it doesn’t stab into my eyes anymore. Yet, I will still feel the removal of those eyes, but it’s like a more opaque feeling in my emotions. Could it be some form of genetic depression, as it’s something to take no control over but it controls you? Well, it’s what you make of it.
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There are some things you just don't have control over.