because i need to make up my mind eventually, right? and that means it has to make sense eventually, right? even though no matter how hard i try, i still can’t figure out how to make all the pieces align. because of my stupid, anxious mind. and maybe you’ll roll your eyes, and call me a teenager, when after a week of not seeing you it feels like the entire world is over. or maybe you’ll tell me i’m a moron for not being sure. and if my gut instinct says two things at once, how am i supposed to tell you what i decide? and if i scream up at the clouds like a maniac, maybe everything will stop for a moment. and maybe then i’ll finally be able to tell the difference between wrong and right. because i can’t sleep, and i can’t breathe, and my mind is made of origami paper, and i’ll laugh like everything’s fine, as you unintentionally crush me between your fingers. even though i can’t even think without my thoughts crashing into each other. because i don’t know, okay? i don’t know what the truth is anymore.
big decisions are always really rough for me. and confusion. honestly, confusion is one of the most underrated negative emotions. i don’t know if a lot of people with anxiety go through this–but sometimes it feels like follows me everywhere. when i was eleven was the first time i remember feeling really confused, i think. i have this really distinct memory: it was, november or december, dark and stormy outside. my class was having a discussion about charles darwin. and i wanted to make a joke, because i wanted people to like me. but then i realized not everyone would like me if i made a joke. and some people would like me more if i was myself–but if who i was was constantly influenced by what other people wanted, who was that? what was an identity anyway? in the big picture, what did it matter what i wanted for myself–there were more of other people than there were of me, and so therefore if more people wanted me to act a certain way shouldn’t that have a bigger impact than what i thought of myself?
and i still remember that feeling–like you’re standing out there all alone in the middle of a blizzard, and you open your mouth to call out, but every time you try, nothing comes out. it’s gotten better, obviously–i have a lot stronger of a sense of identity than i did back then. and most of the time, i’m fine. but confusion definitely still impacts me.
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