I don't think I like myself anymore. I'm becoming a person that I can't stand to be around, one that I almost detest. I'm not fun to hang out with. I don't smile or laugh like I used to. I'm less interesting, as I only talk about one thing (two if you count my health paranoia, a by-product of the first thing). I can't fall asleep easily and I'm exhausted upon waking. I'm back to the fucked up dreams I had when my father first died, the bloody ones that make me shiver throughout the day and shut my eyes against them, until I realize that they are in my head. I can't focus at my job and haven't returned phone calls in a few days. I want to have sex but I can barely focus when I get home, much less feel excited about being in my disgusting body (read: anxious mind). And today is the first day I've worn my hair curly since Saturday. I just can't be bothered with life right now.
I'm not excited by my opportunities, because I don't feel like I have any. All this waiting has dampened any sense of joy about my future. I can see that I'm applying the problem with one fucking university to my entire life, and I cannot stop it, nor do I even want to. Maybe if I let it permeate everything that I am and I know, I'll just be able to ride with it, instead of fight it every step of the way. If I am accepted, I expect to feel no joy from it. Relief, yes. Relief from the cessation of being dicked around for the last month and a half. But no joy. I'm not excited about it. I care so much that I barely care anymore. Instead of relishing the program and the experiences, I see it as a means to an end. If I go there, I bet you infinity zillion dollars that I'll be biting my tongue and biding my time to get through it rather than be in it. I cannot win.
And so I ask myself, is all this worth it? Is anything worth it? And if I don't get in, or if I just never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever find out either way, what the hell else am I going to do? I barely have interests any more. And the ones I do have (knitting and sewing, thank you very much) can't support me. Maybe I just become marginally employed. Underemployed. Be somebody's dumb assistant and just take what comes. Who cares? I feel worthless at this point. I'll work my part-time job on the weekends and then just find another part-time job and be one of those brilliant 26-year olds (I just had to stop and think, how old am I? Today I feel like I'm 87) who wound up wasting away their capacity. Yup, that'll be me. Wallowing in my self-pity and self-anger and fucking self-righteousness.
Again, I say to the world, fuck you, Hunter. You can kiss my heartbroken ass.
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1 comment:
It WILL get better. It IS worth it. I am 26, and I work at a university where I am a useless employee, and sometimes I feel like I'm totally wasting my talents. But I have the things that make me happy - my friends, my boy, my dogs, my knitting - and those are the things that keep me going every day. And I also feel like I will eventually find a job or career that is perfect for me, and if I don't, that's okay too. We're young! And you live in NY! And I know about anxiety too - and I know about feeling too disgusting for sex - and I'm still struggling with it. So I feel your pain, which may not really help, but just so you know I'm out here. IT WILL GET BETTER. I'm sending you positive vibes right now.
P.S. My email is carrie.coker@gmail.com if ya need to vent.
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