I’m sorry this isn’t happy or funny or a poem or a short story. I felt like I could write, so I wrote this.
I’m not good at turning my brain off. I just work myself until I’m tired and then I sleep. But even when I sleep my brain doesn’t stop. It doesn’t stop worrying and thinking of things I need to remember. But instead of coming out as productive thoughts, these worries come out as dreams. Never nightmares, I’m told old for those. Just trouble, painful dreams.
Worried about whether or not you are going to be accepted into the befriender scheme at school? Lets have a dream in which you never filled out an application for but now everyone can read your mind. Worried about the fact you don’t have a thigh gap? Lets have a dream where non of your clothes fit you anymore and your legs have doubled in size. Worried about your best friends? Lets have a dream where they are all in danger and you can’t save them.
I have been of for 10 days and every single day I have done something. But not always something social. Oh no, I’m too anxious for that! I’ve just sat around blogging, learning to code, typing up my science notes or maybe going out with 3 friends. I just can’t stop. I don’t remember a time before I had bags under my eyes.
The worst of it all is the worry of my future. The fact that I have to be special. I need to learn an instrument, join a club, win a medal. I always wanted to follow my dad and go to Cambridge, make myself feel proud. But they aren’t just going to want to take some washed up all-rounder who doesn’t play sport or piano. I need to choose something to be great at, not just lots of things to be good at. And obviously I’m the only one who worries about this stuff. But that’s ok.
And then there is self hatred and depression and emotional bullshit. But that’s for another time chicos (I’m guessing some of you are male).
Anyhow I’m starting a new fitness plan on Monday, a fresh start. Hopefully that can keep my brain occupied. Counting calories is better than counting regrets.
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