Work, eat, sleep, repeat. The endless cycle that brings routine, yet has rendered me exhausted. Keeping myself occupied through work prevents me from feeling suicidal, yet over-working leaves me tired and more susceptible to self-harm. Pressure builds up inside me, until eventually the seal breaks and stress bubbles over.

I try to find rest in you, but overthinking has stolen my peace. You have blessed me with a mind to observe and ponder, but alas! I have misused this gift. Rather than thinking on wholesome things, my focus has been drawn to fear and worry. Your opinion alone should matter to me, but the desire to please is a difficult task master that does not easily let go; it pulls the reigns forcibly, directing my every move.

Dedication to my work has been directed by wanting to please, yet I torture myself by working for those who will never be satisfied. Why do I fret over work? Why do I allow stress to dominate my life? There is more to life than work: love, friendship, and happiness. These things have the greatest price, things that money cannot buy.


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