Post by Rebekah Mikaelson on Apr 21, 2013 20:02:18 GMT -5
So I'm bored, and I like feedback. We had an assignment in English to write about our greatest fear. Here's mine. Let me know what you think.
It's difficult to explain my biggest fear; I suppose it would be difficult for most everyone. However, my biggest fear is a bit more complicated than you might expect. My deepest fear, the thing that I am most fearful of, is me. I am my own worst enemy. Out of every disease that I have to cope with, depression is the worst. It causes my own mind to become my enemy and I fear that I will destroy myself. Depression makes me think and say things that I normally would never dream of saying, but I cannot help it. It simply is not possible to overcome. There is medication to help me, but the medication is almost as frightening as the depression itself. The fact that I take a medication to fight off my own dark thoughts is disheartening. Out of all the horrible things in the world, you would think that I would not be afraid of myself. Regardless, I am. Every second that I'm alone I fear that a pencil will become a weapon; I fear that my fist will become a hammer with which to batter myself. The problem with this mental illness is the agonizing frustration that it causes and the never ending depth of the black hole that is sadness and despair. The fact that no one can see it and no one can really cure it is extremely demoralizing. I am not crazy! Yes, it is all in my head, but that doesn't mean that it is not real. The issue with a mental illness, and in this case depression, is that at times, physical expression is simply unavoidable. It is as though it takes a on a life of its own and wants to make itself somehow heard. How exactly does it do that? It dares me to throw a swing at my own body; to shove a compass into a socket, or jump off a bridge. It nags me to end it; to let my fear and pain finally and mercifully end. The funny thing is, my mind's desire to die is undermined by my heart's persistence to keep beating and my lungs' dedication to continue breathing. It is instinctual, the unwitting will to stay alive. My mind tells me to end my own interminable pain. It convinces me that death is the only way to solve my problems, but my body fights me perhaps in some infinitesimal way. It won't let me give up so easily. Then again, how is it even giving up? My mind is telling me to jump, to let go. It is daring me to cause myself more pain than I already feel. I'm not giving up; I'm giving in. That's the most frightening aspect. In the end, I am my deepest fear and my own worst enemy.
It's difficult to explain my biggest fear; I suppose it would be difficult for most everyone. However, my biggest fear is a bit more complicated than you might expect. My deepest fear, the thing that I am most fearful of, is me. I am my own worst enemy. Out of every disease that I have to cope with, depression is the worst. It causes my own mind to become my enemy and I fear that I will destroy myself. Depression makes me think and say things that I normally would never dream of saying, but I cannot help it. It simply is not possible to overcome. There is medication to help me, but the medication is almost as frightening as the depression itself. The fact that I take a medication to fight off my own dark thoughts is disheartening. Out of all the horrible things in the world, you would think that I would not be afraid of myself. Regardless, I am. Every second that I'm alone I fear that a pencil will become a weapon; I fear that my fist will become a hammer with which to batter myself. The problem with this mental illness is the agonizing frustration that it causes and the never ending depth of the black hole that is sadness and despair. The fact that no one can see it and no one can really cure it is extremely demoralizing. I am not crazy! Yes, it is all in my head, but that doesn't mean that it is not real. The issue with a mental illness, and in this case depression, is that at times, physical expression is simply unavoidable. It is as though it takes a on a life of its own and wants to make itself somehow heard. How exactly does it do that? It dares me to throw a swing at my own body; to shove a compass into a socket, or jump off a bridge. It nags me to end it; to let my fear and pain finally and mercifully end. The funny thing is, my mind's desire to die is undermined by my heart's persistence to keep beating and my lungs' dedication to continue breathing. It is instinctual, the unwitting will to stay alive. My mind tells me to end my own interminable pain. It convinces me that death is the only way to solve my problems, but my body fights me perhaps in some infinitesimal way. It won't let me give up so easily. Then again, how is it even giving up? My mind is telling me to jump, to let go. It is daring me to cause myself more pain than I already feel. I'm not giving up; I'm giving in. That's the most frightening aspect. In the end, I am my deepest fear and my own worst enemy.
