Pressure

On paper, my life really isn't very difficult. I know that. Part of me thinks I just like to complain.

I go through life letting most things pass me by. Hobbies, ideas, goals, opportunities. People. Not much seems to stick.

I can't focus.

I'm in a fog. Good things breeze by before I can even notice.

But sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, an idea sticks in my head. It swirls around and around, picking up momentum until it becomes deafening. I can't control it, I can't contain it, I can barely even understand it. It grows bigger than me, and the whole world reforms in its wake.

This process can happen two ways, but both have the same outcome. If the idea is a negative one, it overwhelms me, and I am crushed under the weight of it. If the idea is a positive one, my expectations are raised to unreasonable heights, and when I realize they can't be met, my own insufficiency becomes the new idea to take its place.

Sometimes I need to get away from everything to get better. Sometimes that's the last thing I need. It's hard to know what helps.

On paper, my life really isn't very difficult. I know that. Part of me thinks I just like to complain.