Paranoia

407

The overwhelming matter of pointless clutter is a tough subject in my head.

It's like a library up there. It happened to have been visited by a tornado and instead of cleaning the mess up I just walk over all of the books.

In all honesty, I would love to have someone sit me down and inspire me to release the tense thoughts I've been saturating for a while now. The truth is that barely anyone would like to do that and I've happened to get slightly more insecure in just a couple weeks, thus preventing me from making rational decisions.

I guess I'm off and I lost the on switch.

I strongly dislike speaking of that which I dislike but for some reason I'm drawn to doing so, drawn to realizing the imperfections of my life. It's not healthy, I'm not proud of it, it's a thing.

But the truth is that my laptop is in fact broken and the negative space it has created can't seem to be easily replaced.

Another truth is that things are going to change and I can't stop them but giving into the current seems so terrifying that I'm not even sure if I'll drift along swiftly or just drown.

My annoyance and sadness surrounding what seems to be every aspect of my life is tiring, I wish I could just live for once, without constantly worrying about the indefinite.

The blatant uncertainty is killing me, as it has been my entire life, but as a 16 year old my false intelligence seems to be giving those insecurities an even stronger voice.

I'm not really sure what to say. There are things I would like to do, people I would like to spend more time with, people I would like to help solve their inner conflicts, but there's a barrier somewhere that's keeping me from all of my wants and instead pointing me into the dark valley of my needs.

It's all getting to my head. Too much of it. This is just pure panic. If I don't think about it, I seem to forget about it's existence. But I'm a person, I think therefore I am, I can't turn off my everyday elaborate thoughts for I would stop existing.

It's complicated. It's also ironic. Many of these so-called problems seemed to appear after the death of my laptop. But I can't ponder about what it would be like if it were with me. I must live on. We'll see, it always gets better apparently.

hopeful as always,

with a sad lonely heart in her chest,

gabrielle