The cause of EMO

I’ve tried to figure out in many ways why people sometimes got so depress over things.

Which the best sample to look on to, is me.

Why am I depressed over things that have already past?

Is it because I don’t want the things to be ended like this?
Is it because I believe I can make the ends of this better?
Or is it because the expectation I had and the reality doesn’t fit in?
So in all, I summarized the things that may contribute myself to be depress.
Which is, me.

If I set my expectation to be much simpler, things would look much easier.
If I put myself a lower standard in love, maybe I won’t be so depress when others maybe much prior to me.
If I put money as fulfillment in basic needs, 
perhaps I won’t be gambling nor working shifts like crap just to buy something I dream of.
If I put myself second, perhaps I will be meeting different people in different places.

Then I figure out the core problem that leads me to be depressed.

The word, “IF”.

It’s the most dangerous yet motivating word. 

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And – which is more – you'll be a Man my son!
(If-, by  Rudyard Kipling, 1895)

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