Dear Stress, I Hate You

Dear Stress,

I hate you. There was once a time in my life when I didn’t even know you–it was beautiful. Granted, I was five and didn’t have many responsibilities, but nonetheless, it was magical. Now, we’re like estranged family members who are forced to visit each other for the rest of our lives.

I completely understand that it’s not all your fault that I want to pull my hair out and scream out in agony in the middle of the library. It has to do with the piles of homework I have every night, the clubs that require so much of me when I have so little and the general dysfunction that is my social life. But, blaming you is so much easier than thinking about all of that.

“What’s wrong with you?” seemingly concerned friends ask. “Oh, I’m just stressed,” I mumble in shame. You’re like a stupid tattoo that I got when I was drunk one night, and am forced to accept because I can’t scrub you off. You’re more prominent on my face than my own face is. I can’t walk down the street without the world seeing your mask of fear, anger and sadness mushed together and suffocating me every time I open my mouth.

Sometimes you go on vacation, and I’m finally free to be myself. I lay down in bed at night and cuddle up in my blankets as I escape into a good book. None of your toxic emotions can overtake me because I’ve been freed from your shackles, even if it is only for the night.

Laughing with friends seems to be the strongest force to drive you out of town, and you better believe I jump at kicking you out with any chance I get. My favorite repellant is simply time and those Friday nights where just about every responsibility that I have goes out of the window, and you’re nowhere to be found. It’s like I’m five again.

Even though I hate you, you do look out for me sometimes. Like that one time when you had me to the point of tears about that presentation in my entrepreneurship class. My palms were sweaty, and I kept screwing up when I was practicing slide five, but when it came to the real presentation, you made sure all of your toxin emotions were drained out of me. You used yourself up so that I was able to do my presentation with clarity, and I was even able to enjoy the rest of my day, afterwards. I guess I kind of appreciate you for that.

But, I still hate you. I know that we’re going to have to be in this “relationship” forever, but how can I accept you when you cause me more bad than good?

Let’s make a deal. If I give you one week to wreak all of your havoc on my life, you have to at least give me some semblance of sanity during finals season. Deal?

Sincerely,

A Girl Who Wants to Be Stress-Free