The power of believing is tantamount to living. Believing doesn’t have to be in a religion, but it can be. I find that believing in general is important.
Last year, I felt like a dog, in some respects. People talked to me when it was easy. The second I wasn’t useful, I was thrown away like a paper plate. Sometime in spring, our science class went on a field trip to a nature park; I was walking with my “friends,” Vanessa and Claire. I was making them laugh, which is exactly what I always do. That’s who I am. That’s what I’m known for. Finally, when I wanted to stop being funny, the two of them just walked away.
Though my feelings were hurt, I tried to act the same. I was afraid of not living up to people’s views of me. Since everyone thought of me as the one who was always ecstatic and hilarious, I wanted to be just that. I felt that if I stopped acting overly happy, it would make things worse. I called this act “sugar-coating.” I fancied I was a miserable person, who had a unique suffering all his own. While I was crying on the inside, it was my duty to cover it up with my “natural” effervescent personality. So this is what I did. I didn’t believe that there was a way for me to be happier, and so it worked for a while.
What I didn’t realize is that my mind works like a balloon. It holds all of its air on the inside, but it can only hold so much. Soon, my balloon exploded, and I had a meltdown. My tears streamed down my cheeks like a torrential downpour, accompanied by thunderous sobs that nearly choked me. Near the end of the storm, I came to terms with the worst part: this build-up of feelings, even the emotions that began them in the first place, were self-induced. I let myself be this way. I had to change my beliefs, change how I viewed myself.
With the help of two or three real friends, I believed it was possible to switch my focus from my acquaintances to my friends. I believed that there was a way to be happier. For the last few weeks of eighth grade, and the summer, I had lived a better life.
However, in August, I was once again thrown. I moved to a new state. My friends were now three hours away (a seemingly small ways away, but still so far). Now the thought of them is like a music box that slows before the song ends. Soon, I will see them, though. And that, once again, reaffirms my beliefs. I am happy once more, because I believe in something.
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