Worry

I get so worried so easily. I worry about myself. I worry about other people. I worry about my relationships with other people. I worry about my future. I worry about the future in general. I worry I'm not doing enough. I worry I won't be good enough. I worry that, no matter how hard I try, I won't get what I want, and then I don't do as much work, which makes me worry that my slacking will mean I won't get what I want. I worry that one little thing is going to mess up the rest of my life. I worry that nothing I do can change the external factors in my life. I worry that my happiness will ultimately be decided by other people's choices that pertain to me. I worry that, as soon as something good happens to me, it will be torn out from under me because that has happened to me time and time again. I worry that there is no God. I worry that there is a God and that It doesn't like me. I worry that life is meaningless. I worry that I won't find love. I worry that I'll find love and lose it. I worry that I'm in over my head in a lot of different ways. I worry that I'm a burden. I worry that I'm annoying. I worry that I'll never stop making stupid decisions. I worry about growing up and being responsible. I worry I'll have my heart broken again, and I worry even more because I know that it's almost definitely going to happen.

I worry that I'll never stop worrying.

The more times I say "worry" in my mind, the less it sounds like a real word.

There is a slight glimmer that keeps me grounded, though. Well, it sometimes keeps me grounded. It also sometimes makes me cry. It's some of the lyrics to "On The Radio" by Regina Spektor:

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath
No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

And as inspiring as the song is (sometimes), making me realize that I shouldn't worry about the trivial things in life, other times it just makes me realize the monotonous cycle that life goes through. The routine of falling in and out of love. The pointlessness. But I only view the song in that way when I'm feeling down, which, sadly, is most of the time when I'm not at St. Mary's.