Everything changes with time, even the most complex of things. True words, even though they came out of my mouth (Unless some ancient philosopher before me coined that quote, then no.), but it truth at it’s core. This is a redo of an old piece of trash I did in Year 9. I tend to go back to things, but more accurately, I always tend to go back to things. The piece I decided to rewrite, was a piece on what I hate the most. Originally, I decided that I hated being in low budget, crappy, plastic chairs as they tense my nerves up. But now, I have something new to write about, and undoubtedly, something INFINITELY better than that trashy Year 9 piece I produced. So here we are with: What I Hate the Most.

I’m a very hateful person. I might not seem like it, but there are a lot of things that can tick me off, and incidentally, I can easily bring myself to hate things too, and so can others. But this is about me, and I don’t see this to be something I need to safeguard with every inch of valour in my body, so I’ll come out with this: I hate being stationary. When I refer to being stationary, I mean being still. Standing still. Very, very still. There are a lot of people who hate this kind of thing too, simply because, standing still is a real getup for muscle tension. But for me, rather than just congregating inside the legs, this type of tension drags across my whole body. Into my shoulders, my chest, my hands, and when this gets put with something who constantly is putting themselves on edge, for no rational or logical reason that I can see (Or that any sane person can see), It riles me up really bad. It’s like what I wrote about before: It’s one heck of an anxiety driver, it eliminates what little/non existant patience I have in almost an instant. It why I’m always walking around, why I shuffle my legs left to right when standing still: I hate anxiety, but unfortunately, I’m practically stuck with it until I step down from the non honourable title of “ProcrasKINGnator”, and actually get stuff about myself done. But lo and behold, that time has not come, and I predict that time shan’t come for a longer time.

So lets put it this way: I must keep moving or I get anxious. Regardless of whether I’m sitting in a rubbish plastic chair, standing in line for assembly, walking across Waterloo Bridge, pacing back and forth in my room mercilessly formulating predictions of what could happen, and has happened, I still have to keep moving. Can’t stop, won’t stop; Wait for no man, woman, something in between or toaster, I must keep my legs moving at all possible intervals. That…Is very painful. It’s like an automated response that requires manual control on my part. Hell, even while I’m writing this in the library, I can STILL feel my legs tensing up and driving absolutely god damn INSANE.

Okay, ending this here: I need to take a walk. Holy god, my legs ache like all hell…