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Full Circle

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a diary entry written at 0200 on a random thursday morning describing someone with anxiety and depression just trying to get through life.

i w
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Full Circle

i'm losing control, sanity, independence, individuality. just when i should be gaining them.

it's as though i've been ready and waiting for so long i've forgotten how to be in the moment and act on these impulses. i have been ready for years, yet hardly anything has changed.

the more ready i am the more scared she is; not just for me, for herself too. as if me taking hold of my own life is a personal insult.

it's a tug-of-war. i know that the reward has been prepared for me and is rightfully mine, but she is unsure of what it may contain, so she is holding tight to her side. attempting to pick and choose which lessons i learn first, what falls out of the basket.

she is uncertain. whether or not she has prepared me well enough, or if i will be overwhelmed. whether she will be flung harshly to the ground when she has no choice but to let go. whether i will return to help her back up if that happens.

it scares her. that i may not return; leave her abandoned behind as i continue ahead. we both much stop pulling, pushing, fighting. we are separating, and the fault does not lie on any single player.

and yet, change is impossible, difficult, inevitable. without control, uncertainty roams freely. regardless, life does its bidding. so what good does it do? controlling, preparing, overthinking: anxiety. it runs and whispers, reminds, shouts of what commands your attention: control, prepare, think.

release. forever sought after, rarely found, never caught. she teases, flirts. leaves trails of her lingering scent. how sweet. stand still. like a butterfly she prefers calm. but so do we. anxiety is trailing behind us, making incessant noises which scare of release, her sisters peace and fulfillness.

happiness is but an illusion. an altered photo making the impossible appear achievable. no, expected. expectations: anxiety.

continuing to march on, searching after what is good, what is eight. no telling which direction is correct. anxiety, screaming; scaring everyone off. you're alone.

it's been so long. you're exhausted. you finally cross paths with someone who agrees to keep you company: depression. he is unbothered by anxiety, by anything. in fact, he can't be bothered to move.

you know it's best to move forward, but the thought of trekking alone once more is unbearable.

you sit with depression, aware of what is expected, hearing anxiety's cries (control, prepare, think), but you only want to rest. you stay longer than you intended. guilt.

anxiety convinces you to continue. you begin to feel accomplished, proud, but of what? you are reminded of your loneliness. your progress compared to others'. depression catches up once more.

exhaustion. prepare. control. think. do. rest. failure. progress. can a contradiction, a paradox, move forward? identity. who an i? who was i? how do i begin to find out? to move forward? to make new discoveries, accomplishments?

expectations. they have changed, lowered. do they not think i am capable? it is well-deserved. what did i expect as i sit stunned by the idiocy of my existence, drowning them all out. selfish. they move on.

alone again. waiting to know what to do. in this game of tug-of-war. on this interstate of life. guidance. but where? if i ask, will there be an answer? control. prepare. think. full fucking circle.

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