Monday 12 December 2016

F-Off Anxiety

Does everything in life hold a meaning?
It's true everything you see and do will trigger an emotion, whether it's anger or content, and emotions towards an object are what gives it meaning to you.
But in turn what does all of that mean?
Justify a object by an objective view, an endless search for validation of what? You don't look to justify the means, you are only ever asked to justify the emotion that triggered the means, and it's your own subconscious, that you can't control, that triggers the emotion.
So you're asked to explain the un-explainable, Describe the indescribable. To look for a meaning behind the indeterminable cause.

I think this is the main reason behind my anxiety, over analysis. To search for the meaning behind the object, you open a door to walk through; but why do you need to be on the other side?
There's no simple acceptance that it's an end to a means.
You close a door to keep something out, but why do you want to be boxed in?
It's almost like a never quenching thirst for pointless knowledge.

To understand that everything is just something with no need for expansion, that I can only dream of.
Now, you yourself might be wondering at this point why I'm waffling on about objective nonsense.

This is something I don't need to question myself on. There are acres upon acres of trees in the world that nobody understands why they are there. Just like there are millions upon millions of people in the world that nobody understands why they are suffering.
So for you to perhaps make steps to understand me, and realise it's not stupid, it is in no way silly, and it's effects are deeper than the foundations of some homes.
There are other people, who suffer in silence; frustrated, fearing, and fleeing from their own figurative thoughts.

I want anxiety to #F-OFF.
Only together can a society stamp out the stigma that surrounds the subject.


I am open to suggestion,
Ask me a probing question,
I'm an open book, I'll try to teach,
How to put your worries out of reach,
Yet I don't take note of my own word,
I scream and shout, but never have I heard,
Am I alone in this myself?
wallowing in misery and filth?
Or do I also have a shoulder,
As I lent to you, growing older,
Maturing in age and mood,
If only I thought I could,
Move past what seems a great expanse,
A desolate and lonely trance,
I don't want to admit that I am weak,
But I must face facts and look to seek,
A deeper form of understanding,
Of an aircraft almost never landing,
Of a state of constant suspense,
Leading me to feel this way, and hence;
I plea to you my faithful friend,
That we stop trying to against fend,
The laws of unknown emotion,
The source of this unruly commotion.