Do you know how annoying you are?
You have made me feel incapable of being human. From class and my apartment to driving around for errands and even being with the people I love, you are an itch that never leaves me alone. Even when you’re not there, you still manage to seep into my skin.
Yes, I am a perfectionist. Yes, I have big goals I want to achieve. Yes, I have a fear of failing but would it kill you to leave me out of the bigger equation: the one I call Life.
I go to the gym to sweat you out. I blast music to tune you out. I talk myself into circles, from my family and friends to my boyfriend, but word vomit still isn’t enough to shake you. I used to eat you away, but it never filled the void. Sometimes, I will force myself to nap to tune out — both from the real world and especially from you. I take showers to steam you out but you creep back into my brain like the way you wash your hair.
I am tired of you making me feel like I’m walking on eggshells. I am tired of feeling like an alien in my own body. I am tired of being tired.
I especially hate when I first wake up, my body filled with anxiety, wishing I could I have a reset button to the day without even getting out of bed. If that doesn’t say something, I only have more instances where you make me feel incompatible with the world.
You make me feel weak and take control of every fiber of my body. Telling myself I am fine, I am enough, I am OK simply isn’t enough. You make me second guess, triple guess, even quadruple guess myself to the point of insanity. You make me perceive everything as if it is all my fault, that I’m not doing enough, so to compensate, I occupy myself by being the energizer bunny on steroids.
I will make a never-ending list that makes me feel like I’m going crazier in the end. What can I say, I love being occupied with something and always feel like I need to be doing something instead of nothing.
I hate this. I hate feeling like I’m annoying. I hate feeling like I am the problem when the real problem is you. I hate taking medicine to “fix” my brain chemicals. Yes, I have been told I am not broken but despite this positive assertion, I still feel like I am.
So what is it going to be? Again, I have been told you will never go away but when will it be the day that you are a microfiber?
