Emotional volatility is an extreme form of self-neglect. I know better than to internalize my feelings to the point of self-detonation. I am far too hard on myself, the one person I am so graciously stuck with until the curtains fall in the finality of life. My precious body, mind, heart and soul take care of me as best as they possibly can given the circumstances. The berating they receive every once in a while when I make a mistake which has consequences that are worse than usual are too extreme. I seem to conclude that I have no choice but to punish myself, because now that I’m an adult with no parental authority to chastise me, it’s clear that a punishment must be handed down to truly solidify how awful of a mistake I made. It’s not a way to live, I know this. I know it whilst inflicting unfettered mental pain onto myself. This pain slithers inside and wraps its tendrils tightly around my heart that then struggles to feel anything but sorrow and anguish, quickly turning into this physical pain that claws its way under my skin making me want to rip it off along with every last strand of hair on my head. All that unnecessary effort just to make myself feel worse than I already did to begin with. My poor sorrowful heart and sharp-tongued mind takes these feelings as proof, magnifying all my inadequacies and incompetence. Just another typical day turned unnecessary and ridiculous. C'est la vie. I’ve since bounced back. Life is a beautiful, scary, fucked up mess. Being human is not for the weak, yet we persist and persist. Despite it all, we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for. I just hate when it happens, and I’m allowed to complain, just like anyone else. That doesn’t take away from our overall persevering spirit and determination. I am still love and light at the end of it all, so I try to remember it as much as possible. I place sticky notes around my computer with affirmations; I am a spiritual being having a human experience. Everything I don’t like is reflected back to me in people that rub me the wrong way, in situations I try to avoid. There is no escape, only persisting through the fear I hate to face head on. It will get easier, I know it will. I just want it now. One day, it will here. And I will look back and think to myself… how silly it is to be me and to be human. Nothing is so serious, happiness and love are all that matter. Stop being so dramatic, you. Start writing about your life when you’re not looking at it through melancholic vision.
