Let Me Bare My Soul to You

Doing too much: an entry by Amelia

I wrote a poem for my English class. Whenever I write I have the habit of making things more dire than they have to be, especially in poetry. And the habit weaves itself into every other aspect of my life as well. In the back of my head I can always hear a stern and cautious voice: "You're doing too much". My mind doesn't treat the realisation as a sitcom-esque, cute little quirk. It, of course, operates in extremes. Trying too hard is embarrassing. It's desperate. It's revolting. My mind's rapid attempt to recalibrate results in me shutting everything off. Somehow it's better to care about absolutely nothing than to feel a bit strongly about something.
Whenever I'm by myself, I'm going over the conversation I had with you in my head. Was I too weird? Too judgemental? Do I come off hostile? Or on the opposite end, do I come off borderline obsessive? I can flip between yes or no for each question, being absolutely sure about myself, in seconds. It's pretty amazing actually, how I can be completely convinced I was justified in doing something and then moments later peer at the day-old gum wad latching onto someone's shoe and think "ah, just the place I belong". The most infuriating part is I never actually choose an answer. I deliberate a question so much that fact, perception, bias: everything is muddled. I tire myself out. I sleep it off. I go on as if a new day means I don't have to continue questioning whether or not I'm a bad person. Currently, writing this down I'm leaning towards I am. Ha. Just as I wrote that, I thought "you're not being very fair to yourself" soooo the struggle continues. And I can't just decide I'm somewhere in the middle either, that feels lazy, and that makes me a bad person.
That entire paragraph? That, my friends, is doing too much. As if I need to introduce it to you. As if I created this novelty, new way of thinking. I madden myself like philosophers except rather than pondering exestencial questions, I'm stuck on whether or not it's okay I didn't see you and wave at you in the hallway. (Sometimes I wonder whether or not I genuinely want to be nice to people or I just want people to believe I'm nice. I hate typing that because I hate the idea of it. I THINK I do genuinely care for people, but the constant checking if I'm coming off a certain way gets in the way of me being able to do more.)
Though more could be said, I'm supposed to be discussing a poem. The poem below incites such intense reactions from me. I hate it because it sounds so pretentious in my mind, and the wicked image of myself as an unfeeling, coldhearted human being latches onto every syllable like some parasitic virus, a plague on everything I create: is it 'creative' or entirely egotistical? Another part of me I often smother in silence feels liberated by the poem. Like I've never written something that captured a moment in my life more. It encourages me to keep feeling intensely about things. The issue arises when I consider whether or not that's a good thing.
I wrote a poem for English class. It's called "Superfluous By Nature". Ahhh yes are we sounding pretentious yet? Its about a day where I realised I was in fact doing too much. That I cared about a certain project wayyy more than the majority of people I was around, and the failure to complete said project literally left me laying on a classroom floor listening to a sad bops playlist (I do recommend people make those). But the more I thought about that day, the more I felt it wasn't horrible to care so much so long as I was aware of the repercussions for caring. The poem is essentially a defense of my mindset, though I realise my mindset could totally be flawed, and I don't suggest everyone adhere to my wack pov.
But I suppose, if you are someone who puts your heart and soul into something--anything--realise you are likely to get hurt, and if you can deal with that idea and accept it, deciding that whatever aspiration you have is worth it, go forth and prosper. Be wise about going absolutely insane.
Ha okay here's the dang poem:

Lying lifelessly, I pour,
Upheaving ample endeavors,
Recall the list of may chores—
Lament over the ones unborn.

And still, despite my pressing on,
Some fail to see the struggles charm
The great dismay promotes alarm
Yet victor's joy begs no reform.

I weep to reap the spoils of war,
Excite in overripe splendor!
If trifles send me to the grave,
Then bashful bounty prompts high praise.

So rather than still-water moods,
My ocean's waves reach amplitudes;
I'd rather die to then restart
Than senseless, empty, tempered heart.

Dear Amelia, 

I can't sit here and say that I know exactly how you feel and how to not feel that way. I can say, that even though I don't know you and I am just reading the words off of a screen. I can tell that you are not a bad person. You have the ability to care deeply, and caring deeply does come with some consequences. When people care deeply, they tend to second guess those feelings and in turn second guess themselves. I can't say there is a way to not feel that way because then I wouldn't second guess myself whenever I feel something. I can say this though, I recommend that despite how down you feel about yourself, I want you to write down all the good things you've done in your life and write all those moments down in detail. Really think about those moments and realize that you are a good person, its not you that is bad. If people misunderstand something you said as bad its not you its them, you said it from a pure and kind conscience and its just their perception of it that twists your words away from what you meant. My last parting words will be to have faith in yourself and who you are. You are probably a sweet girl, if you feel this way then talk someone. Tell them no matter if it could feel like you are burdening them or disturbing them. And if you don't have anyone to talk to you can always dm me and we can talk. 

I hope you got some strength from this.

Lots of love to you,

Larysa