The Problem With Pressure

The problem with pressure is that it keeps on pressuring you.

It's like you're carrying a backpack, full of things which you'd rather not keep. A few books of studying pressures, a notebook of personality pressure, and don't forget all the other things like peer pressure skipping ropes, perfection pressure mobile devices, etc, etc.

I don't know how many of you will get what I'm saying (I'm not even sure I do) but no matter who you are (unless you're an actual stereotypical Dumb Blonde, but I don't believe anyone actually fits in to stereotypes) there's always Some Pressure lurking around you.

Take me, for instance.

I don't know why, but in the past month - everything's come crashing around my head.

It all started when my teacher decided to scare the melons out of me by talking about how simple and painful death can be. Charming, right? She didn't say it so bluntly, but I was dead scared. Because I'm just so darn naive.

So then I went on to have an emotional break down - in, of all the places I've ever been in, the shower.

Seriously. Why me?

Because another teacher was talking about how, Oh, you're at the stage where you need to make or break your personalities. Choose your friends, and go on the right path, because good people go on that path, and they clear the way for you.

(Seriously, though, think. Isn't it supposed to be that when you go on the right path, you become a good person? So... isn't that close to paradoxical?)

And I just thought, yeah. Suuuuuuure. Like anyone's going to break their group of friends now.

Because we're all set in our own groups, and no one likes a loner.

I don't mind being a loner, sometimes - you can't feel people judge you, and you can hear yourself think. But it's nice to have friends who can stick up for you, isn't it?

So if I make / break my personality NOW, I'll end up being alone. People judge you, and go, oh, it's a loner. Hence bring on depression and pretence of being okay, and God knows where that'll end up.

So, remaking myself? Easy? Hah. My dear teacher, you may need to take a look at our modern society, and tell me just how easy it is to remake yourself.

And my mum has decided to become increasingly upset about my dropping grades.

Heck, I'm upset about my dropping grades. Why does she need to lather more pressure of being better on me?

She thinks I'm so good, when I'm harbouring secrets she'd go ballistic about.

Actually - I don't even know if she thinks I'm good.

But when I was being especially kind to her and my father, she commented, "You'll definitely go to Heaven."

And I just cracked a smile and went, "Maybe."

The thought of eternal torture tends to scare the heck out of me, so I try my best to avoid doing such stuff.

My sisters, however - they're a different story.

If they knew I was writing about them to the whole internet - ah, who knows. It wouldn't be pretty, though, guaranteed.

I mean, if I wanted, I could feel better about school and friends and whatnot, but then comes the fact that it's not good and once more with the whole eternal torture. Bazinga. Not fun.

Yet if I try to be really good, then I end up feeling upset with myself, and I'm not really intent on the idea of feeling upset with myself for my whole life.

My sister Amelia went to Europe with some students our age, and guess what? Oooooh, she ended up doing underage... things etcetera! Ooooh, golly gee, what a fantastic role model! (Obviously, not many people actually know about this. But yeah.)

She believes in YOLO. I, however, do not.

I mean, I get the literal sense of it - You Only Live Once. I know that. You don't get to press a button and rewind back, and redo stuff.

But it sort of implies, do-stuff-like-getting-high-slash-drunk-and-partying-all-night-long-and-disobeying-your-parents-while-treating-everyone-who-tries-to-stop-you-like-bird-poop-on-the-pavement.

Not always! But sometimes.

I could just go on and on and on and on and on (seriously), but that'd seem like repetition. Whatever.

Cheers for venting, though, got something off of my head!

The End

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