Sunday afternoon. What should be a relaxing pajama day or a few hours out for a drive is currently way to stressful. I need a job, I really am aware of that but I just can’t bring myself to be that worried. I want to travel next year, I want to go to university, I want to buy what I want. Yet here I am. Too anxious about both not having a job and the idea of actually getting one. I applied some places, got turned down or no response. That’s concerning to me but I have also never been so relieved. We live in a time where students need to get jobs, especially ones going into their senior year. I want one so bad but I’m not sure, my mind is a cluttered and strange place. I’m not exactly sure what the problem is but something is clearly wrong. So that’s how my day is going. Attempting to stay calm via chill music but in reality I’m so distressed it’s ridiculous.

Quote

There’s a plaque on our wall that says we’ve sold over 65 million albums, and I don’t feel I’ve accomplished anything. I feel like I’m just getting started ~ Eddie Van Halen

Unknown Success

Every time I turn on my phone there is a notification. Not a text or a missed call. Not even Instagram reminding me to view Wil Wheaton’s newest photo. Tumblr. I see a note or a follow on an account that wasn’t supposed to become anything. An account that I agreed to be a part of in passing, based on a topic I really don’t care for, making me synonymous with a character from a franchise I know nothing about. Started for fun maybe 6 months ago, now we post to just over 4600 followers. A strange goal that has entered the mind of every young person nowadays, to be popular on the internet. I wanted to be liked, I needed to be liked. Now my personality is apparently liked. People think that I’m funny and they connect with me. At the same time it’s weird, everyone has the freedom to make assumptions but it’s added stress that so many people are judging everything you do. Why did that photo get less likes than that quote or why are people asking for more of a certain character and not me? Nothing has changed in my life, I still go about as normal with the knowledge that if I say something remotely entertaining that it will end up out there for all to see. Every teen and young adult, even kids now, want to become internet famous. Hell, I wanted to not bother with higher education so bad and figured that that was the perfect way to make money. All having followers means is you’ve done something someone likes, not even more than once, enough to agree to see you again. When did popularity become a contest for power not love? I always thought the “popular bitch” in high school was just the vain kid that wanted to be worshiped, not the one who wanted to control the time of teens across the world. Maybe I’m just stuck in an era before my time and I should pray to hit 10 000 or 100 000.

 

I can’t breathe.

Everything is dark.

Time is irrelevant.

My heart is my only focus.

Am I dying?

Is this how it ends?

No, I can hear again.

Voices? Confused voices.

My breathing starts to normalize.

My faces is wet, tears?

Am I in pain? No, just sore.

How long have I been like this?

Minutes or hours, it’s all a blur.

I think I’m okay.

I can’t see or move.

People are coaxing me to speak.

I try, I know what to say.

I can’t make a sound.

I’m hot, it’s like I’m closed in.

I look up for air.

I can see.

My eyes aren’t squeezed shut anymore.

I want to move and I’m sweating.

But I hide further into my clothes.

I want to disappear.

I stay silent.

All I see is sympathy.

Was I near death?

No, just a panic attack.