Adjusting

I'm getting the hang of it all.

You know, the things that other people do that seem to affect you more than they really ever should. The things that are out of our control. Those are pretty much the same things you desperately wish you could control, but you know you couldn’t anyway. Then it still doesn’t really make you any happier to think about how you would attempt dealing with all of the extra weight of those things. Consistently pestering you, and always wanting something when there’s no more to give. Supplying you with plethoras of back-hand compliments which not-so-secretly express how they think you’ll never be good enough or amount to anything in your entire existence. Digressing onto David Hume’s theories of how none of us even exist anyway helps relax those feelings. Then thinking about Rene Descartes theory, “cogito ergo sum” (I think therefore I am) brings forth a whole new type of fear. Maybe the one that over-exercising all of your grey matter will either induce you to become larger than you should, whether it be internally or publicly, or end up sending you inside a spiralling abyss of delusion.

But what’s forever, anyway?