This blog often contains uncomfortable subject matter and occasional sexual content. If you don't want to read about it, empower yourself to close the page. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Horrible films about horrible people who remind me of myself. I bought weed again, because I make terrible life choices. I think I'll sell it back to my source. It's got me even more depressed, more lethargic and useless, when I should be unpacking. I didn't work on my baby blanket at all tonight. It has to be done by Saturday afternoon. I keep thinking about other people, how they get things done, how they go about their lives and everything doesn't have to be some big fucking deal to them. I don't know them, don't know anybody (who really does?) so I have these illusions in place about who people are, what they're capable of, what they probably do on a day to day basis. I tell myself they're so functional, successful, driven, talented. In my mind, they rarely rest, they don't sit down to watch TV or play video games. Maybe they lament that they can't even find time to read. They keep their houses clean, they're always on time, they're productive, creative, they keep up on current events, politics, they vote, they volunteer, and they still find the time to cook healthy meals and exercise regularly and strenuously. I compare myself to these illusions I create of people, and I never measure up, never. KO is hurting me again. Or, my perception of her is hurting me? Or, my perception of her perception of me is hurting me. I went against my better judgment being friends with her again. I feel like I can't relax, or can't be caught relaxing, around her. I can't talk about junk food that I ate or want to eat or am going to eat, because she will tell me how she doesn't eat that. I can't tell her about how I did nothing last night, because she will tell me all the things she did. Or how she wishes she could do nothing but she has to work out because she's going to be in a bathing suit this weekend. I am letting her fucked up body image issues give me fucked up body image issues. I feel disgusting when I'm friends with her. I feel like a disgusting fat slob who wastes all her time. I watched a bad movie about a miserable person tonight (instead of unpacking or crocheting). It is called Tiny Furniture and it is about a young woman who moves back in with her relentless mom and impossibly successful younger sister, and they always give her shit, and in turn she acts like a spoiled fourteen year old. And she also lets men use her for drugs or sex or a place to stay. Hmmmm. Needless to say, I related a whole lot to this character that I couldn't stand. And it's got me thinking about my sisters, and how they're not like me, they get good grades, they're going to have careers instead of jobs, BRS paints, wants to fly planes, MLS is going to be a nurse. Meanwhile I keep stepping into my kitchen in my jankity new apartment to try to wipe down the cabinets and unpack my dishes, and deciding I "can't handle it" right now and turning around to go back to my room to get high or play stupid video games or something. I think, what's the point in living when I'm so low-functioning? I'm not going to do anything, make anything of myself, help anybody. I'm not going to try. I will talk a big game about how I'm going to really try this time and I'm going to push myself and be responsible and keep on top of things, and become more impressive, and then I will continue to spend all of my evenings either loafing around in my room or loafing around in my boyfriend's studio apartment. It seems like a waste of resources to keep me alive, when this is how I operate. Yeah, I'm feeling sorry for myself, go fuck yourself with your judgment. But it's also got me thinking about BK. Upon realizing that I hate that character in that movie, and then realizing that I hate her for reasons BK didn't like me, I then realized that I largely still view myself through his eyes. I view what I should be through his eyes, and also through KO's. And I view what I "really am" through his eyes as well. And so I hate myself. And I tell myself every paycheck that "next paycheck" I'll schedule a doctor's appointment to get meds. And I don't talk about it with anyone, not even JK, except for saying "I've been really depressed lately." I say it a lot. I guess it's a desperate plea for him to ask me to tell him more about it, but he just says "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?" and I don't know how to answer that. I've reached the point of wanting to break up with him simply because I imagine that he is realizing what he's gotten himself into now, what I'm really like, how selfish and lazy and spoiled and lethargic I am, what a bad attitude I have. I want to break up with him because I can't imagine him not eventually wanting to break up with me. I am avoiding him somewhat these last few days, and I'm imagining that he doesn't mind, much. That maybe he is secretly relieved to not have to see me every. Fucking. Day. Maybe he'll have more room to breathe, more time to exercise, maybe he'll feel better. So anyway, it's 1:05 in the morning and instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour, I just spent the last half hour whining about my white people problems. 1:05 a.m. - 2014-08-08 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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