Images 12


  • By girly-d
  • On 23/11/2017

Imagine being a child and then being told that you have just been promoted.

To President of The United States.

And what that means is that you get to run the show. Take care of everything. Look after peoples best interests. Oh and try not to touch the wrong button in case you accidentally blow up the world....

That's how it feels when you are ten years old and expected to play the game of "Adulting"

You should be pretty carefree when you are a kid. Changing the nappies on your favourite doll.....Not coming home from school to find that your mum hasn't moved from the sofa all day which means that she's wet herself. Again.

You should be baking pretend cakes on your mini toy cooker....not trying to work out the buttons on the real one.

You should be tucked up safely in bed every night with one of your parents reading you a bedtime story - not making one up for your little brother as he's having trouble sleeping,  your dad is now dead and your mum is just comatose.

You should be having friends over for dinner after school. Except that you can't because there's no one to cook it but you.....and you don't have any friends anyway.

Most importantly of all. You shouldn't be worrying about any of this shit. You should be waaaay too busy just being a kid.

But you're not - Because you got a  promotion. 

No-one bothered to ask if you wanted it. They just gave it to you anyway. And so you had to get on with it.

And you tried to be President and do everything properly, and look after everyone, whilst trying not to make a mistake and blow up the world....And in doing that, you forgot to take care of yourself.

And eventually, the strain of being president got too much, because you suddenly realised that you had waaay too many plates to juggle. You couldn't keep up with them all. The pressure to keep all of those plates up in the air was enormous. It was an impossible task. And so you finally decided to use your presidential powers and made an executive decision.

 You dropped the lot.

Right before your head exploded.

One by one.

Until each and every one of those plates were broken and smashed on the floor.

Which is exactly how your head had been feeling for years.

And then you looked at the carnage that those juggling plates had caused, and you took a deep breath, stepped over that pile of broken crockery and wrote a letter to the White House. Resigning with immediate effect. Explaining that they would need to appoint another President.

One who actually wanted the job in the first place. One who liked juggling plates. Lots and lots of plates. All at the same time.

Oh, and who also loved housework. Cooking and cleaning and sweeping the floor....

Especially sweeping the floor.

Because the resigning president has a train to catch... and has decided to skip housework there's a bit of a mess in the hallway. Right next to the open front door....


anxiety mental health control me myself and i