Maybe

I can care way too much for my own good, even if it is over the stupid things. I care for things that don’t even care back. Maybe it’s in the hopes that I can change them or maybe I am a just destined for pain, that would sure explain a lot. If I didn’t care about the things that don’t back, maybe I wouldn’t be so exhausted. Maybe I’d be a little more accepting of the things that do care back. Maybe, it’d be nice if I didn’t care so much.

I don’t know where the passion to try so hard came from. Maybe it’s my stubborn attitude that I was handed from my Grandma. I could be faced with a situation that I know I can’t win; I could be in a situation where I could never be right, but I don’t stop trying. I have to keep pushing in hopes that I can come out with the upper hand. Some things that I caused wouldn’t have turned out the way they did… they probably wouldn’t have happened at all. Just maybe, I wish I didn’t try so hard.

I feel everything that happens. I feel things that I have nothing to do with me. I dive deep into situations that shouldn’t even matter, that don’t matter. I feel everything. Everything affects me in some way for form. I’m so damn emotional, even if I don’t show it. I try not to. Maybe I like the feeling of having feelings, having something to care about. Maybe it makes me feel like I have something to live for.

Thinking is so in-depth for me. Thinking is constantly clouding my brain, and even sometimes barricading what’s important. Thinking just comes so natural now; maybe because I’m doing it constantly. I have to keep doing it more and more and more to get anything done. To feel anything. I’m almost at a breaking point. I’d love to go back to thinking straight.

Maybe if I just wish I didn’t feel everything for every single thing, I would be happier. Maybe.