Worry

I spend all of my time worrying. Happiness does not occupy my being long enough to push the unpleasant thoughts out of my mind. I often feel I’ve gone mad. I often feel it’s too late. I often feel nothing more can be done. I often feel hopeless and helpless. I often feel it’s over. I feel I’ve reached a cliff and the next move will certainly push me to fall. And I also feel many around me wish to see me fall. I do not know what to do. Is there anything that can be done?

I spent this morning talking with my mother and my sister. Because each one of us carries the burden on her heart, that of worry. We do not know what to do. We cannot do anything. We spoke openly of our troubles, I cried a great deal. My mother is currently sitting on the opposite side of me. She’s thinking. The burden hasn’t left her. I pray that it will. I pray that it takes leave, only for a day. We need it terribly.

What are such worries, you may wonder. They are beyond my explanation. But if you wish to imagine what they are like then you must picture a matryoshka doll (those russian dolls that always contain another inside).

Image

I found this picture online in case you’ve never seen one. Amazing aren’t they? It’s like it never ends. An optimistic guru would say “Ah but eventually it does, what you see is only an illusion and your perception of the world may not always be the right one”… Okay so I made that up, I didn’t read it anywhere. And it’s very true. I agree with this. And I feel bad for not being to believe in it. I cannot sit around, take off one head after the next until it’s finally over. How do you do that? There must be something I could do.
If someone could just kindly tell me what to do, if someone could, not give me the solution, but give me a hint. A hint will do just fine, please. I need guidance, I need a sign, I need anything, please!

When did things get so complicated. When? What happened to that beautiful simple life I thought I was entitled to? I’m not talking about those pathetic teenage problems, I don’t even have them because to me they’re pathetic. My problems, sadly, are so much bigger than that. I matured long before my time. And now, I’m paying the price. It’s funny though, I didn’t decide to be like this. I found myself like this and on top of all, I live around wonderful parents who have taught me to be mature, I live with an older sister who is wise beyond her years, and everything around me encourages that. So here I am, a girl who cannot fit in with her surroundings, who cannot dream because those dreams are basically never to be achieved, and I’m not exaggerating. Don’t forget the doll I’ve just shown you. Oh, try to picture plenty of strings balled up together where you can’t untangle anything anymore. Mix that with my russian dolls, and tell me how I can fix my problems.

Hmm… I know I’m being pessimistic, but the circumstances do not encourage otherwise. And believe me, if you knew why I’m complaining, you’d think I live in some sort of tragedy.

(the picture is not mine, I found it online)

 

 

 

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