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Dear Pressure


no picture piafleig
Se registró el día 23 de diciembre de 2014
  • 18 Artículos
  • Edad 21

the day starts with my alarm clock that wants me to get up.

my determination tears at me asking for attention.

between squats my note at my wardrobe screams at me: “How strong can you be?”

Instagram tells me that to be a successful doctor, eight hours of learning per day are a minimum and YouTube presents me all those “ten-thousand-activities-a-day” people.

my mobile stares at me and Twitter wants me to tweet hashtags,

and my fingers type a letter to my friend who wants to die.

My fears do their best at training how to overwhelm me

and my stomach wants to become thinner so it’s just lentils for dinner tonight.

NASA has this live stream and asks me to watch it so that the philosophy of the day doesn’t go amiss

while chemistry demands me to calculate the percentage of iron in a stone.

-2 degree Celsius wants me to wear a grey wool hat,

my overwhelming loneliness forces me to talk with the girl I don’t like,

the boy in the library stares at me too long and forces me to smile whereas the boy in the t-shirt outside makes a part of my brain tell me to be curious and ask him how… why…

Victoria’s Secret explains to me that getting wings at their show is the ultimate goal in a girl’s life

and my mother makes me question why I don’t go to university anymore

whereas my physics book reminds me of the time ticking

the mail folder warns me to write that application

my desks wants to be decluttered

my dreams tend to break…

and at the end of the day, I have forgotten to breathe.

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