Narrative Essay: Hypegiaphobia-Fear of Responsibility

Hypegiaphobia- Fear of responsibility

New Year’s resolutions make me feel so inadequate.
Every year, I join in the family tradition of listing a few things we’d want to achieve within the year and wait for a whole year to end to check the ones we’ve done and underline the ones we haven’t.
While my parents and siblings check out a lot of things from their lists during the end of the year ritual, always there will be a complete and clean list on my hands.

Year in, year out, I’ve gone into the habit of not replacing the list I’ve made the previous year.
Everything in the list is still there; not a word or a wish or a goal checked off.
A favorite of mine, also the most preposterous if you ask me (I think the reason why I wrote it was because I faced a mirror while changing clothes one night before a particular New Year) is the header of my list—LOSE WEIGHT.
Remembering back to grade school, that item had always been there—the big ten-letter bad word.
So much has happened in my life and yet those two large words still manage to haunt me.

Reading through my list of impossibilities, I see that the other items are quite easy as compared to the BIG one.
Easy in a sense that they’re doable, like cleaning out my room once a month, helping do the chores once in a while, getting a girlfriend, getting a life.
Sensible things that never got done, no wonder they never get checked off.
On the bottom of the list, another impossibility presents itself—CARE FOR SIBLINGS.
Living a day in my shoes, people would understand the dilemma of this last one wish, being that my siblings (as I realized one night for the nth night I had to suffer) are worse than the demons of hell personified, escaped, and running amok.
Under the right and immensely rare circumstances, with just the right offerings of cake, chocolate, and ice cream, these little beasts can be soothed into a deep and long spell of angelic cuteness and actual gentility.
Thinking of it now, I should’ve stocked up on the sweets when my mom and I went grocery shopping last week.
I have a research paper due Thursday (which translates to cramming Wednesday night), and Ma and Pa would be away so I’ll need all the sweets in the world to vanquish those monsters into an early sugar-induced sleep.
On their bedsides, I guess, I must sing them to sleep with their favorite lullaby—“Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Spongebob Squarepants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he…”
Nauseous with stupid kids’ show theme songs, I know I will barely make it to finish my paper (as in literally, right after printing the thing, I’ll be sprawled on the floor twitching in pain and seizing).
So long, stupid New Year’s resolutions; I still have real life waiting for me!