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An entry without smilies - I'm having one of those days |
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I recently joined one of those journaling guilds. I said I wanted to feel like I was writing for someone, to keep me motivated and to keep me writing.
Well, it seems I'm writing in a speed that's impossible for anyone to keep up with. I'm producing irritably long, frequent entries, most likely uninteresting to anyone but me and myself and full of faults, both in my English and structure.
Dear Drew told me a while ago that what he likes the most about me is my cheerfulness. It made me realize I'm not anymore. What went wrong? I thought I'd grown and gotten myself the life I wanted. I'm socially active and I have friends. How come I'm so goddamn angry all the time?
Am I going to blame it on men? I always blame men for all my faults, I feel. Men raped me of my happy-go-lucky naïve outlook on the world, didn't they? It's all the men's fault.
Maybe it's time for me to consider wether I'm actually bad for myself. Maybe it's time for it to occur to me that I'm the cause of my own trouble. Maybe, I should realize that I'm responsible for my own actions.
Would it do me any good?
I thought I'd grown and gotten myself the life I wanted. I thought I'd made myself happy.
Still, I find myself escaping onto Gaia, and my journal there. What am I escaping from?
Tonight, the answer is easy. When I was going to change the sheets of my bed, I realized that they'd shrunk. It pissed me off completely, and I had to hang up on my friend who I was talking to on the phone, because I couldn't concentrate on what she was saying. I was too upset about a damn sheet.
Then I went downstairs so I wouldn't have to face the sheet issue. I talked to my mother and the conversation got into our financial situation, which is a disaster. Us being broke made me even more pissed off, so I ended the discussion.
My mother then started cleaning, and it made a lot of noise which drove me mad. I had to get away from it, so I thought I should hover my room. When I came back upstairs and saw the sheet again I nearly burst into tears.
And so I logged into Gaia. For as long as I'm here, sheets do not exist.
When did it get so bad that a sheet can ruin my day? I didn't see this coming at all. Am I becoming depressed? Please, dear God, not again..!
But maybe I am. I've been staying in a whole lot more than I used to. My lazy weekend, and the illness, and all. Maybe my subconcious is making me ill, so I can stay at home and escape reality and life. Or maybe I'm becoming crazy, thinking my subconcious and my immune system is making conspiracies against my mental well-being.
I'm also beginning to get into this whole "what's-the-point?"-thinking. That's my worst enemy and fear. If I can't stop it soon I know it'll bring me down completely.
So what if my sheet shrunk? Does it matter? I'm only going to use it to sleep on anyway. And so what if I don't sleep comfortably. I only sleep to be able to stay awake in school. And what does it matter if I don't keep up in school? Someone else can be a rocket scientist. The world doesn't need me. Whatever function I might fill can just as good be filled by someone else, anyone else, really. And what does that matter - seeing as we'll all die one day.
This is not who I want to be. I really did think I'd grown and gotten myself the life I wanted.
What it all fake? Something I'd put up to make myself believe I'm happy?
Please, please, tell me I'm just having a bad day. Please tell me I will wake up tomorrow - in my shrunken sheet - and know that I've grown and gotten myself the life I wanted.
Please tell me I'm not unhappy. I coundn't bear it. I couldn't manage to bring myself out of depression again.
Please, even if my happiness isn't real, make me believe it is.
Emi of Sweden · Mon Oct 30, 2006 @ 07:35pm · 1 Comments |
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