pressure.

once, my psychology teacher told me that no one is born with faults or mistakes. everyone is born anew, pure to the core and even the cries that spill out of our small mouths are pure. so, what is it that makes us turn out to be so twisted?


pressure.

pressure is the overwhelming presence that lingers around us, clawing down our backs, covering our eyes so our vision is obscured, and pulling us down into the dark abyss otherwise known as our minds. everything becomes messy, dark, and we lose track of ourselves in the process of being confined to pressure.

everyone has been a prisoner to pressure before — it’s impossible to not be one. you can’t waltz through life without having dealt with the deadly force known as pressure. you can be confined to pressure as young as three years old or as old as ninety-one; it would not matter to it since it traps every person, no matter what the age may be. many people can escape pressure easily, some cannot — it may take days, months, years even to rip pressure off your back but once you do, the immense wave of relief is one that is welcomed with a warm hug.

i, myself, have been confined to pressure — in fact, i’m still a prisoner to pressure. why, must be the question swirling around your brains, why haven’t you escaped yet? because i care too much about what will happen if i do this, or if i say something wrong in front of so-and-so’s mother, or if my actions at someone else’s house will be my downfall. ever since i have been born, freedom has been holding my hand however when i reached the supple age of eleven, i was taught to “stand a certain way”, “smile politely when serving tea”, “act like a girl”, and “smile through the pain”.

i fear that pressure might never let go of me. the vice grip it has on my shoulder will leave a permanent scar on my skin, reminding me constantly to “stand straight”, “lose weight”, and “look appealing”. i want to be free of these pains, of these worries, of this pressure. where’s freedom when i need it the most? is it hiding, scared of what i might become after pressure has let me go? but i swear i’ll be the same person, the same girl i have always been. i’ll go back to being the polite child at the parties, the girl that is always being brought up in examples for other kids, and the one kid that parents only let their children go if i am going.

i am not perfect. i am not everything. i want to better myself of these things so i’ll try to escape these chains that are holding my scared, insecure self back.

for now, i will close my eyes and allow pressure to press me closer in the depths of the mist that will fog my eyes up. one day, i promise, i will go back to being the pure youth i once was, free of any care — of any pressure.

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