Can you even imagine what this is like? It’s like validating every single thought I’ve had about being worthless. It confirms every urge to hate myself until I meet a standard. I cannot grant permission to love myself until I am acceptable. Right now it looks like I’m not and won’t be for a while. That means no confidence. I can’t talk to people anymore, flirting is an anxiety lurking behind worry. It means no motivation, no reason to really do much of anything. Even writing this now feels like a strain, each stroke of this pen is a tug at my heart and I want more than anything for it to stop. It means that everything I witness is in some way a reflection of myself. For example, I can’t watch Star Trek anymore. Why? Everyone in that show is so happy and confident. They can all feel like they have a valuable place in their world. So each time I watch Star Trek I have to wonder: where is the place for me? And I can’t escape that question anymore. Can’t play a video game without feeling like a nerd. Can’t be challenge without feelikg like I’m just not enough; not strong enough or smart enough or clever enough, and suddenly everything is a reminder that I’m not enough. I can never be enough until I learn to love myself again. But where do I start? How do I accept the flaws that make me, me? Flaws and flaws, and I ask: why do the imperfect people around me seem so happy? Why do they live life, have sex, find reasons to laugh and work hard. Why do they get the chance to feel good enough to work toward something when I can only see work as a product of my own failure? The answer is even worse. It’s me. I am the reason that I am so miserable. It’s all me and I can’t help it, except to sit here and write this mess out. I drew two figures here. One of them in a flower pot, and the other in a glass submerged. You may be wondering which one you or I am supposed to be, and at times I feel like I could be one or the other. Or neither. I could draw dozens of other figures about depression and self worthlessness, but the trouble is that they’re all buried and quiet in some way, because all of them wonder: are you listening?
Is there anything left to listen to?
The sign says: There’s too much down here. Please hurry.
Be happy faster
But sadness is orbital
Just faster cycles
It was rough today
Sometimes stories write themselves
Sometimes I’m too sad
I should really start updating this website too, as soon as I’ve figured everything out.
Blog stuff is just silly.
It’s Pokemon and Jackie Chan Moon demons all the way today. Check it out!
Now that I’m off of school I should have time to do at least one of these a week. Trust me, I’ve built up enough, but feel free to send in new stories to be ridiculed.
I’ve got a root beer
And a room full of garbage
Good excuse to write
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