sorry it's so long =/ if there was a vent categorie, that is where this would be...
I am so anxious. I feel so guilty, so worthless, so lazy, so addicted. I am tense I have too many feelings stirring in my head right now to properly articulate in any orderly fashion.
What is wrong with me? I must have a disorder of some kind. I’m living life undiagnosed, but with the absolute certainty that I am really and completely ill.
My summer has come and gone. A to do list abandoned, but never forgotten. Potential crushed before it could even be named that. Hopes and ambitions stomped into the ground. I can’t buy back the time that I’ve tossed and for that, I feel eternally ashamed.
I didn’t toss it carelessly either. I tossed it knowingly, which makes it all the worse. Each day slipped by me, before my eyes. I saw it fading, I heard the clock ticking, I counted the days on the calendar. Before I slept each night, I told myself: tomorrow will be better and more productive. Tomorrow you will do this or that, you will accomplish what you failed to accomplish today you will forget past sorrows and plow through that checklist. But come daylight, my late night resolve vanished.
On Saturday, I was nervous, because it was already the last day of the weekend and I hadn’t done what I’d sought out to do since Wednesday. Come Sunday, the nervousness only grew. Then Monday passed, and the overwhelming feeling expanded further. Then Tuesday, then Wednesday, and now it’s already the middle of the night on Thrusday. I haven’t written the paper that I’ve been struggling to write, nor have I read the books I wanted to read. I can’t do the latter task without finishing the former. I can’t do the former because I feel trapped and overwhelmed and all too anxious and too conscious of the grains of sand slipping through the hourglass of my summer and it’s making me feel like I’m on the verge of imploding.
There’s so much stuff in my heart right now, that’s probably the only way I can put it.
I feel like scum, and the logical thing to do is to pull myself together and tell myself that I still have a little more time left to fix this, fix me. But the nervous part of me, the part that is almost wholly what I am right now, just a nervous wreck made up of bones and flesh and skin and blood and physical components that don’t even matter, is preventing me from moving forward.
I am so conflicted. I am addicted to something bad for me which I won’t divulge because I don’t want to record this habit I don’t want to make it real. Well this terrible need is tempting me, pulling at me to go tend to it, which I do because it is easy convenient compact not a commitment. It’s not good for me, so I easily stray to it as a means of escape. Books, which I had vowed to devote my summer to, can’t even lure me from my struggles as an escape route because they’re an investment of time and that’s something I’ve realized I have no right to give. And that’s why I feel so limited. I can’t pursue my hobbies, my to do list, my wants because they take up time. There is a frame of time and I can only give up my time in slices tiny little fragments that I break off, like pieces from a granola bar. It’s not enjoyable, I’d much rather take a bite, but I’m too nervous you see, I’m too overwhelmed, and so I start breaking. Little crumbs everywhere, tasteless disgusting useless but in the end it’s all I’m capable of.
I feel trapped. I feel like stuff I just want to rewind everything and start over. I just want to go back. I want opportunity and time.
I need a whole expanse of spare time in front of me in order to do anything of use. I need that security that I’ll always have the next day and the next to show me that I can invest in something more than a slice. But now that expanse is gone due to poor choices in the beginning, and now I am afraid and I grow more and more afraid everyday. I regret this week. I regret my whole summer. But if I go back to this past Sunday, in retrospect, I could have taken advantage of even these past few days and turned my life around. But it’s too late now, that’s what I keep telling myself. It’s too damn late, and I believe that statement now but I know now that it’s something that only rings true in the current moment. By tomorrow, today will appear to have been a blessing, a window of opportunity for me to make it ‘not too late’ but god my foresight is so horrid and it’s just getting later and later and I feel so frustrated because I can’t even put all of my frustrations into words this entire thing probably makes no sense and that just angers me because I have so much to express and spill out and my guts are aching at this bubbling unnamable emotion yet I can’t even say it I can’t even explode. I am detonating a bomb inside my heart but the walls won’t even collapse. I’m imprisoned in my own self-destructive paradoxical cycle of habits and emotions and forgetforgetforgetforgetforgetkkkkk I don’t know what to do. I’d ask for someone to console me but I feel like no one would ever understand.
I would judge me. I would hate me. I would call me a lowlife. I would be disappointed in me. I loathe what I have become, what I’ve always been, what I am continuing to turn into. I loathe every action and every thought of mine, I loathe everything. I want to die, yet I have so many plans and goals. I could never fulfill them. I could never be anything in life that I envision myself to be. I am the worst.
It’s too late…
I murmur it to myself, I complain, I want to cry but I’m just frowning at a computer screen right now and too overwhelmed too too too overwhelmed.
summer_sage
summer_sage