[ WP ] Under pressure , precious things break .

Everyday people repeat to themselves a mantra. It is the same for every person. Sometimes it is actually vocalized, even directed at, another human being. Other times it travels from deep within the subconscious. Every person hears it from somewhere different. Some people's parent's will tell them this their whole lives, or perhaps their closest friends will prompt them to start adhering to this sacred mantra. Others will hear it repeated while they attend school, and still others have an inner voice whispering it directly to the brain. Maybe some people never have it said directly to them, but hear it in passing. It does n't matter where this mantra comes from, the message is the same, and everyone knows what it is. Everyone abides by the special rules. 
 
 `` I need to, I should, I have to.'' 
 
 At first it almost seems motivating. Some people'have' to get'x' done by such a time. What great time management! Some people'should' get a degree in chemistry, because they're good with numbers. Their future will be secure and safe. Some people'need' to visit their family members. Ties are important. It seems helpful, at least in the beginning. Maybe it helps them remember things. Maybe it creates a drive within the human mind to check things off of a list. They need to go to the store. They should put some money in savings. They have to keep a clean home. 
 
 While at first the fruitfulness of this mantra is indeed tempting, like all fruit, it spoils. Some people need to grow up. Some people should just stop being negative. Some people have to start taking more pride in themselves. Some people need to seek professional help. Some people should really not be in public... not looking like THAT. Some people have to hide their true self. The fruit spoils and withers away with time, but the seeds are planted. It is too late. 
 
 They take root in the heart, tangling, strangling and invading. Need, Should, Have. Need, Should, Have. The root of `` I need to be stronger'' wraps around and tangles the blood vessels. It weasels its way into any cracks small enough, and draws its strength by feeding on the warm light of the heart. The vines of `` I should n't feel this damaged'' wind around rough muscle fibers and takes hold of the cells, constricting and stopping movement. The bitter blooms of `` I have to be better than this'' sucks up the hope and dries the heart to a cold, grey husk. The process is a slow one, albeit deadly. All at once, the heart stops beating. All at once, it goes cold. The warm, red light is snuffed. Silence falls. 
 
 But then... 
 
 A dry crack. The grey husk tears slightly, and out pours swarms of angry lies. They mob the brain in angry, whirling spirals. Why did n't you do this? Why could n't you be better? Why are n't you good enough yet? Did n't you do that thing you were supposed to? You should have fought! Why did n't you fight? Why are you so weak? You have to get up! But, no! You need to stay down now, you're too far gone. No one wants to help you. Your heart is a dry, brittle thing. 
 
 Nobody loves you. 
 
 Maybe years go by. Perhaps it is only a month. In either case, the mantra has destroyed the body, mind and soul. When did it become so painful? Why does n't it help anymore? It should help, it needs to help, it has to. Something has to. Anything. Sometimes, the vines lacing the heart in such delicate, interlocking patterns, will constrict. At first it's too painful to bear, but after a few hundred times, the pain grows dim. There is n't too much left to feel anymore. One last good squeeze, one last tug on those strong vines, and something inside gives. It does n't take much, for the wounded and already bound heart, to break. 

