Stress

I have a weird way of expressing (for lack of better word) my stress. I know I am stressed when I start singing out loud. I know I am near my breaking point when I fill my playlist with sappy 80’s love songs and sing out loud, with lyrics that I know by heart. That’s when I know I need to get out.

UP Sunken Garden

 
De-stressing usually involves me going out. Whether alone, with my friends or with my family. It doesn’t have to be very far, I just need to get out. I need to walk, to see people and to see the sky. More often than not, de-stressing means spending money. On food, on clothes, on things I don’t really need.

In a way, I use stress the way people sometimes use alcohol and drunkeness - an excuse. It’s an excuse for the way I acted, for the things I say. Coupled with PMS, me under stress is not someone you would want to cross.

When the stress (and PMS) has passed, I am much calmer. Gone are the negative vibes and murderous thoughts, in comes the fond reminiscing and gentle voice. Then I think back on my brash actions and harsh words. How I must have hurt people with the things I have said. I feel much regret over things that can’t be undone and words that I can’t take back, but in hindsight, I realize that I am merely expressing what I felt, and in the heat of the moment, I have blurted out what I really think.

I’ve deluded myself into thinking that I am a much better person now than I was four years ago. Actually, I *am* better now, except that I still haven’t totally shaken off some of the traits that drove my friends away. I guess some of them here to stay — the personality disorder and my friends.

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