I found an essay that I wrote in high school last week. It was the final essay I wrote before I left for college. And that was the title. I am done.
Why is it that my whole life I have felt this way. Like even when something good happens I am unable to enjoy it or see the good in it. I am perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. Trading one set of worries for another.
I started this blog when I was lost. Then I found myself and my voice. But like everything I couldn't just be in that moment. I had to rush through it, find the bad, move on to the next thing.
I want to crawl under my desk and hide. Let tears silently fall down my face. Keep my mouth closed for so long my tongue forgets how to form words. Punish myself for never being able to enjoy the good. Perhaps this is my punishment.
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