Sinking Slowly

I’ve come to realize that summer’s almost over. Which means starting high school in a month. Which means even more new people to judge me. Even more people for me to grow to despise. Even more arrogant people drifting aimlessly from class to class, in hopes of scoring a college education with their 4.o GPA. I’m honestly scared for my innocence. I mean, going into high school symbolizes growing up. Which is something I’d rather not do. And don’t get me wrong most people don’t grow up during high school, some never do. But I realize that sooner or later I’m going to have to leave my childhood behind and… and… what? What exactly am I supposed to do with myself once I mature and become a emotionless slave to society’s standards? I don’t want to become one of those people who’s oxygen is work. I don’t even know what career I want to pursue. What the future holds is not for me to know until the future is the present. And I hate it when adults ask ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Well, for starters I want to be happy. I want to be able to live my life without anxiety and fear of other people’s opinions of me. My worst fear is that I can’t be happy. That I won’t be happy. I don’t want to be a rock. Sure, rocks are strong and safe; nobody can hurt a rock. However, no one can love a rock. A rock can’t let you close to their heart because it doesn’t even exists. There’s a pond of  misery and a pond of joy. You can toss that rock into either pond, but no matter what, it will sink. It’ll be at the lowest point it can get to. I don’t want that to be me. I have reached low points, but I don’t think I’ve hit the bottom yet. I’m terrified for that day. The day when I don’t have the strength or the courage to pull myself out of my pond of misery. The day when the sludge catches my foot at the bottom, as it begins slowly dragging me under. The misery will fill my body and I’ll be too heavy to float back to the top. And then I’ll get to the bottom of that pond, I’ll find myself surrounded by rocks. At first its scary and I’ll be melancholy. I’ll miss the life I lived at the shores of this pond. But after awhile I’ll get used to it and I’ll grow numb. Maybe because the water’s too cold or maybe because I don’t even want to feel anymore. Yet either way, there I am. Down at the bottom. I will harden up, and I’ll become a rock.
I can’t delay the inevitable, I will accept this day when it comes. But the point I was trying to make was that I want this day to come, and I want it to pass. I don’t want my lowest point to be the highlight of my future.