It's not a word we use often.
It's not a feeling we feel often.
It's not an act we experience or witness very often.
It is something I see, hear in another's voice and in their actions every day. It is something, to be quite honest, I find laughably intolerable. It is caused by one's own insecurities, anxieties, and inability to handle even the smallest of bumps in the road. It is self-created, often for no other reason than the need for attention. For if one were truly to be frantic, there would have to be a cause that could, maybe even should, cause dire results. Yet, those who act frantic, do so for no other reason than a lack of responsibility, accountability, and severe procrastination. The daily sighs let out and the solo conversations about being busy, running around, and the exclamation of "This is my life," is nothing more than a byproduct of living an inefficient lifestyle. A life where the simple task of waking up involved four presses of a snooze button. Where the simple feeding of a pet, washing of one's face and teeth, causes such exacerbation, you'd believe it was one's wedding day or that they might be walking the plank later that afternoon. I try to laugh at it, because to feed into it, as we tend to do, thinking our sympathy is a means to an end, is fruitless. These people will somehow prevail, whether it be at school, in the workplace, or in relationships, others will view this inner turmoil as something they need to assist, never realizing they are just adding to this act. The more attention these people get, the more frantic they become. Their stomping feet, elevated pitch, and deep breathed sighs echoing as they walk up the slight slope of life, convinced their path is steeper than anyone's, or at least that's what they tell us. If they only knew our woes, stressors, and ills. But no, they never ask, only wandering through life telling others of theirs, waiting for that one weak soul who is willing to waste their time appeasing their incessant need for attention masked as a burden.
It's not a feeling we feel often.
It's not an act we experience or witness very often.
It is something I see, hear in another's voice and in their actions every day. It is something, to be quite honest, I find laughably intolerable. It is caused by one's own insecurities, anxieties, and inability to handle even the smallest of bumps in the road. It is self-created, often for no other reason than the need for attention. For if one were truly to be frantic, there would have to be a cause that could, maybe even should, cause dire results. Yet, those who act frantic, do so for no other reason than a lack of responsibility, accountability, and severe procrastination. The daily sighs let out and the solo conversations about being busy, running around, and the exclamation of "This is my life," is nothing more than a byproduct of living an inefficient lifestyle. A life where the simple task of waking up involved four presses of a snooze button. Where the simple feeding of a pet, washing of one's face and teeth, causes such exacerbation, you'd believe it was one's wedding day or that they might be walking the plank later that afternoon. I try to laugh at it, because to feed into it, as we tend to do, thinking our sympathy is a means to an end, is fruitless. These people will somehow prevail, whether it be at school, in the workplace, or in relationships, others will view this inner turmoil as something they need to assist, never realizing they are just adding to this act. The more attention these people get, the more frantic they become. Their stomping feet, elevated pitch, and deep breathed sighs echoing as they walk up the slight slope of life, convinced their path is steeper than anyone's, or at least that's what they tell us. If they only knew our woes, stressors, and ills. But no, they never ask, only wandering through life telling others of theirs, waiting for that one weak soul who is willing to waste their time appeasing their incessant need for attention masked as a burden.
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