Just warning you (if anyone actually reads this- I‘m assuming my journals are still banned?)- this will probably turned out into a very pathetic piece of utter self pity. Seeing as I hate reading that kind of stuff from other people, it probably works the same way. Plus, usually my journals turn out more pathetic then most. Jesus. I read back on some of them and want to give myself a good kick in the ass.
Let me put it plainly. Lately, things have been going… well, not the way I wanted them to go. I was stabbed in the back by someone I thought I could trust and that basically was the first of a whole bunch of scenarios that have made all my old insecurities bubble up to the surface. You know that story of the donkey that had straw after straw placed upon its back until the weight was too much and its spine snapped? I feel that way at the moment. All these little horrible occurrences are building up, weighing me down. I no longer feel any motivation to get out of bed in the morning. Hell, I don’t have motivation for anything any more. Sure, I worry about the giant pile of work sitting menacingly on the corner of my desk. But to start it seems too much of effort. I guess I think if I go delving into that pile, I’ll get lost. Jesus Christ. My half-yearlies are in less then two weeks and I couldn’t be more apathetic.
I’m turning into a sloth, I suppose. Nothing seems worth it. Oh, don’t worry- I don’t mean that in the “omg im gonna killz myself” way. I dealt with that ages ago. I mean it as in… Well, I’m not sure how to put it. Maybe I’m giving up. Maybe that’s what I mean. Perhaps this is how the young hopeful that wants to be a rock star ends up stacking shelves in the supermarket for the rest of his life. I can empathise with that, really, I can.
For awhile, I thought I was special. That was what was keeping me going this year. I had potential- I could do it all, if I wanted to. All I needed to do was be determined. But lately, I’m not feeling so special. That could be a good thing. Maybe I was being a narcissist before. However, without the feeling that who I am really does make a difference… I feel like I have nowhere to go. I went to climb the mountain, only when I got there, I realised I had no rope.
I know plenty of people have been through worse then me- don’t think that I don’t. That fact makes me feel astonishingly guilty constantly. Hell, I’ll probably end up deleting this because of my guilt. I really have no right to complain. I have a need to… But not a right. Hence why I’ve stopped talking to the Samaritans. No matter how bad I feel, it can never be justified.
Really, it can’t.
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