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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 10 (v.1) - Expectations

Submitted: April 25, 2016

Reads: 152

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Submitted: April 25, 2016

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I just get frustrated sometimes, you know?

People expect so much and don't realize I'm only a walking bag of bones.

My parents expect me to keep my grades up, to be involved, be social.

But how can one possibly do that when keeping myself together long enough

To manage a five minute conversation without breaking down, is hard enough.

My friends expect me to be there for them. And it's not that I don't want to be,

But sometimes I reach the point where my flames are all burnt out because

I gave my light to everyone else. That when someone asks me how I'm doing,

I smile and say "I'm doing fine." But 96.7% of the time, that's a lie.

I know I'm not the only one going through this.

I know plenty of people who are struggling with depression and sometimes

The thought of breathing, seems worse than not.

My friends worry about me, and I don't blame them.

A suicidal person who tries to be there for everyone can only take so much before they snap.

I know I shouldn't do that to myself, nobody should. But I'll be fine.

I know there's better days ahead and that some of the greatest things have yet to happen to me.

But it's just frustrating, you know? All these crappy days I go through every week.

Maybe 2 out of 7 days I feel like I can make it through. I have so much to say, But I can't say it.

But sure I can.

Anyone has the power to express how they feel.

Whether through the screen of a device, paper, or speaking.

But yet, I don't. I try not to say anything, give it away.

Because that would be considered rude, wouldn't it?

There's such a fine line between venting and smack talking, and I probably do both.

It's hard. It's hard to keep in the anger without letting it explode.

I've got so much held in you'd think there was a burning hell inside of me, and there probably is.

I shouldn't complain though, I choose not to say anything.

But at the same time I have the right because I'm keeping my  mouth closed so I don't make things awkward. I want to scream at the top of my lungs releasing the rage my rib cage holds,

But once I start, I know I can't stop. It's just frustrating, you know?

I try not to get attached because people have the tendency of walking out without leaving a letter of Explanation. It's just frustrating, you know

? The expectations of society are ridiculously blown out of proportion.

Kid's are expected to manage a high GPA, activities, homework, and get 8 hours of sleep at night

. But how do you stop your mind long enough from thinking? T

he pressure of life weighs on our shoulders.

Why do we expect so much from something that's disappearing?

We as a society care more about what color the dress is more than why teens are taking their own Lives. It's easier that way, isn't it?

It's easier to cover up the real problems we face because if we didn't,

We'd have to face the real problem. Us.

We try to find happiness. We crave and search for something that isn't there.

We take, we take, and we take and we expect there to be more.

We don't realize that people have their breaking points.

As if sadness and depression can be cured with the contents of a first aid kit.

That it's just some beautiful disaster. I didn't realize that expectations could kill, until they killed who I used to be.

 


© Copyright 2020 Lexi Zimmermnan. All rights reserved.

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