Over and over it plays in my head. What to do? What not to do? How long can I hold up against all this weight?
I've been called many names, the latest by your brother, and as much as I try to push them into the corner, let them be forgotten and gather dust, the pile is growing a little too large. God, I'm not that bad am I?
There's always pressure, not just on me but on everyone else as well. The strain of school, of dealing with people you don't like or can't stand, pressure to "do the right thing." What if my definition of "the right thing" differs? I have my own values, my own beliefs, should I mould them to others' expectations?
It hurts to think about my breaking, the cracks in my everything becoming wider and wider. I'm not sure I have a heart to shatter, not one that knows love, but I certainly have a soul to shatter, burdened as it by my inner battles.
Expectations. The word screams "conform". I don't want to, don't know if I can. Why do I have to be exclusive, do well in school, listen to my parents, go to university, get a good job, not break any hearts? Why can't I just live? Pack animals that we humans are, it might just be genetics, that something inside us tugs us to "fit in".
To do what you want, you often have to hurt others. Usually, though, I just end up hurting myself. Me, the arrogant, self-centered heartbreaker.
The confusion often makes me want to run away, to flee to somewhere everything makes sense. I know such a place doesn't exist, though. When running's not an option, you're suppose to turn and fight. Look things in the face and say "I am a superior being, I can handle whatever you throw at me."
I wish I was all the names people called me. Arrogant people don't feel like hiding from the world, sheltering themselves and never dealing with pain again.
I'm sorry. Sorry I'm a train wreck, sorry I'm breaking your heart, sorry I'll probably break hers too. This escalator only goes down.