I think about ways to distract myself. Recently those distractions have taken the form of books. Reading and reading. I read an O.K. book called The Maze Runner by James Dashner. It was good, but it was too specific, too unrealistically horrifying that the wonder of it sort of wore off. When I went to pick up the sequel I ended up buying something else entirely. Feed, by M.T. Anderson. This book was phenomenal. Absolutely incredible, and so pertinent to myself. By the end I was crying my eyes out. I am almost crying right now, thinking about it. Kind of pitiful, actually.
I feel like screaming, but I know that won't change anything. I feel like being irrational, but that won't change anything either. I feel like playing the piano until my fingers bleed. That would probably change everything, but everyone else is asleep right now. Maybe I'll stay up too late tonight. Maybe I'll stay up until *gasp* 3! Who knows!? I never show people this side of myself. I hide this depressing shell of a person from everyone. When I think of deal-breakers I think of this. Who I am right now. I feel like a liar for not telling everyone I meet that I am a moody asshole. I feel like I am misleading them. I can't help that this is who I am, this is who I will always revert to when something is wrong in my life.
The first problem is accepting that I feel this way. Then I have to think about what's making me feel this way. Then I have to think about how to solve that problem. Then I have to actually do it. The process is so long and so unpredictable that I could spend anywhere from months to a few minutes feeling like this. Most of the time it involves some serious sob-fests. I'm such a baby, it's kind of intolerable. I cry all the time. I cry when things are happy, when things are sad, when I'm angry too. It's a physical manifestation of the turmoil I feel inside me.
As for this most recent episode, I'm not sure what it is that's bothering me. I've yet to complete step 2. Usually, right before step 1 is over is the time in which some weird product of my estranged and macabre imagination is miraculously translated into music or poetry or writing, or some various form of art. Step one is followed by a lot of tears. The end of Step 2 is usually followed by, you guessed it, more tears, and a nasty bit of sarcasm usually directed at some individual on whom I blame the present situation. Well, I think I just disproved myself. I have reached the end of step 2.
In fact, I've known what's been bothering me for a long time. I'm afraid. I'm so scared about the future that the only thing I can do is resort to curling up into a ball and forgetting that it's in front of me. It's like when I was little, I used to get scared at night, so I would creep into my parent's room and sleep on their floor. Something about it just made me calm. Well, I guess right now I'm doing that again. I'm just running away from what I'm afraid of. Pretending it's not there. The problem with the future is that you can't do that. It's always going to catch up to you in the end. And there's really nobody to blame but myself when it finally does and I'm not prepared for it.
I just feel so isolated right now, like nobody else is going through what I'm going through right now. I have friends that are all going off to college without a care in the world. I want that to be me. My whole life I've cared about everything and thought about everything WAY too much. I just want to STOP CARING, I want to STOP THINKING about EVERY SINGLE FUCKING THING. I just want to be normal. I know it's not true, but I feel like every single day for me has been a fight against something. Every single day I've worried about something, or I've felt bad about something. I just want to stop worrying. I want to stop hurting. I want to stop feeling miserable. For once, I just want life to be as easy for me as it is for everyone else. And sure, I'm a long ways away from giving up on life. In fact, I'm convinced that will never happen. But I've stopped fighting. I've just sort of accepted the fact that I'm supposed to be unhappy. It's become my default setting. And everything about that is wrong. Everything about what I've just said is outright horrible.
But I just can't bring myself to hope that it will ever change, and I definitely cannot bring myself to fight it off. I don't have the energy, or the bravery, or the whatever it is that it takes to do it. I need to be rescued. I need someone to pull me out of this and stand me up on my own two feet again because I've reached my limit. I've reached my carrying capacity. I've reached that point where I just force myself to shut down, to stop giving a fuck about anything. And that makes me frightened. I don't know what I'll do. I don't know who I will become when I'm like this.
Someone rescue me, please. Help me out of this stupid fucking hole I've put myself in.
