#I promise no matter what thag I am not ignoring you

[cherrysnax]

this is very inconvenient I’m sorry 😭 I need to get my phone fixed but I’m so broke lmao

[raes-dirty-laundry]

Stress

I didn’t realize exactly the depth of pure shit I was in until I wrote, be it a very summarized version, of it all down. That version was sent off never to be seen again but this version I’m about to write all down for you here is the extended directors cut. From my brain to this social media platform to you, in all its angsty glory;

1. Constant worry about the wellbeing of my ex girlfriend, that I haven’t seen in three weeks. And when I say constant I mean not a moment goes by where she’s not on my mind. I’m ether formulating the next text I’m going to send her, the next conversation I’m going to have with her (the next time she decides to fucking bless me with her presence), the next accusation, confrontation, confession, concession, profession of everything I’ve been holding in; or I’m bombarded with the mental image of her lying dead on the carpet, all the years and decades passing by where we’re in love and nothing could keep us down as long as we got eachother, successful or poor, fat or thin, living or dying or somewhere in between. that life, that track, that winding road I could have kept her going on if I wasn’t selfish, didn’t take myself away from her for my own good. What’s my own good any good for if she’s gone anyway? And sometimes when I think of her all I feel is relief that it’s over, and guilt that its really, really not. Sometimes all I think is how much I miss her, not that I miss us or what we had together but believe it or not she was good company and an even better friend. Sometimes when I think of her I’m furious and sometimes I’m sad, but mostly I just want closure. A closure I don’t deserve and I’ll probably never get anyway.

2. Me passing this semester, this whole year is solely dependent on a paper I mean to write but never have the time or the motivation or the ability to create. It was due a week from torrow and I’ve promised my professor it’d be on his desk tomorrow morning, but I think we both knew that’s not going to happen. I’m going to fail his class and fail this year and there’ll be no one to blame but my own shitty inability to make good on my word. My word is all I fucking have and I can’t even keep that straight. I’m unwilling to hand in a crap paper and I’m unwilling to do what it takes to completely it and I’m unwilling to show up to his class empty handed, so what the fuck am I supposed to do now? All my options are exhausted, I’m exhausted, and I’ve not even begun to suffer for it.

3. Speaking of classes, I’m on the verge of failing two of them and only with a month left in school there is absolutely no time and little I can do to make it up. Not only will this hinder my ability to pursue further education but it will also without a doubt put strain on my home life as well, when the truth comes out either by admission or that cold hard evidence when the grade report comes in. Let it be known that at least I’ll take the responsibility for my own damn action and conscious choices that led me to fuck everything up. Let it be known that my free will is strong, and as much as it blesses me it is also my greatest burden, but I’m learning to live with it as I am will all things.

4. I’ve been severely deprived of possitive social interactions, friendships and what have you, for god knows how long: since I fell out with my childhood best friend, Jacob, surely. Because of this for the longest time I had aloud shit people into my life because I was desperate, and just up until recently I have come to terms with my inherent isolation and found peace with the one solid and good friendship I have, I found peace with putting my all into being happy with myself and not needing others to define my value. Since that epiphanic moment for some god forsaken reason everyone from here to whoville has been coming out of the woodwork to be my ‘friend’. By friend I mean they want to use me as an emotional dumpster, and somehow I’m the one left feeling guilt deep in my soul for just not giving a rats ass about thier shorty problems and thier shitty lives that I can’t do anything about and if I tried they’d be pissed and if I have advice they wouldn’t take it and if I just listened they’d tell me they don’t feel valued and I act like I don’t care and they’d spit in my face. So forgive me if this irony is fucking shocking when I say, the moment I stop lusting for friendship and start actually examining the quality of those I let influence me, a cascade of shit people become vying for my attention, right when I gain the ability so see through said shit too. Where were these people when I was desperate and would have bent over backwards for their every whim? Where were they when I was honest to god lonely and just needed one friend, one person to talk to no matter how shitty or using or manipulative? Now that I’m free of my blissful ignorance, free from letting scum walk all over me just because they give me the time of day, now they all see my value? It’s not fair and entirely too patronizing, even for god this is gone too far.

5. I’m almost certain that the only constant, stable good thing I’ve got left in my life is getting closer and closer to his end and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever has to deal with in my entire goddamn life. After he’s gone I’m afraid of what will become of me. I’m sure that everything good about my soul that was ever worth anything of value will leave with him. I’m almost relieved that the squishy, vulnerable, loving bits left still inside me will be burried with his soft little body in the dirt where it will all go back to creation, hopefully where it can be used and remade and turned into the thread that twines around true loves hearts. Meanwhile I’ll be left here to live on my life, cold and careless and unseeing, where I will finally be able to throw myself into the Work. all that I see now, all the suffering thag hurts to ignore, all the love and the heartache and everything that makes me who I am will be deep in the dirt where it belongs and I’ll be blessedly empty and there’ll nothing left to hurt any longer. Or at least that’s what I hope.

6. The responsibilities I’ve been turning a blind eye too for far too long are finally nipping at my heels and I can barely contain them inside my any longer. I’ve got a responsibility to myself to take care of myself far better than I have been. I owe it too the one friend I truly have to try and take better care of her and our friendship. I have a responsibility to make sure my boy he’s happy and safe and well cared for, but I can’t bring myself to take him in and find out how long we’ve really got, it would break what little of me that’s stable that I have left and I just can’t to that to him, I’ve got to be strong enough to be there when the time comes but it’s selfish to keep myself in this dark, it’s wrong of me to do this too him but I just don’t know what to do. What I can do, if there’s anything, and I’m too scared to go find out. I’ve got a responsibility to myself to actually be responsible with my life for once, do what I must do to progress on my path but I just can’t find it in myself to break out of the routine and do something with myself. Ive got the will, but I just can’t seem to find my way.

7. The nightmares, if they can even be called that, have been plaguing me for a week or so and it’s probably the worst possible development nueralogically that could have happened to me as of late. My dreams, for years, have been the only peace I find in my horrible useless life. The only place in my mind that I don’t have conscience control of, hence it is salvation for a person like me. A whimsical everchanging world that has always brought me joy has now been ruined. Every night it begins like how it used to be, funky little nonsensical dreams where I’m free to just enjoy for a moment a life where I am simply lead, no choices to make and no prices to pay. Hours of harmless everlasting fun safe tucked away in my mind where no one can rain or take away. I’ve always had a vivid imagination, so it’s always been sometime bright and new and exciting. But now? It’s dull. Not scary, not terrifying, not traumatic or chaotic, just my life through a lens. It’s like stepping into a version of my own life where I make irriversable mistakes, where every bad trait is put under the microscope and examined in depth, or it’s replaying every mistake I’ve ever made before, over and over until I can’t tell what’s real life and what’s inside, or worst of all, I’ll wake up and not remember a damn thing; a completely dreamless night. I never knew one of the last good things in my life that were truely mine could so easily slip through my grasp, and now my peace is gone and I’m scared every night that the next time I fall asleep will be even later than the last until I’m so fed up with my dreams not being the salvation that it used to be, that sleep while once was the hope on the horizon getting me through the day will now be so useless and horrible that I’ll give up on sleeping all together and just be an empty sleepless lifeless zombie. I’m scared that I’ll never get my dreams back. I’m scared that one day I might even learn to be content with the dull dreams that leave me racked with despair every time I open my eyes and just have my own sad twisted life thrown back at me.

That pretty much sums it all up. Those are the factors in which are making it extremely difficult to life my life at the moment. These are the reasons I’ve moved beyond stress and anxiety to a simmering ball of hazy rage doused dread. I know one day it’ll all be irrelevant or I’ll just be used to it, but I almost prefer feeling too much all the time, as apposed to not being able to feel anything at all, but I’m sure my stance on that there will change with time and I become more and more numb to the world around me, duller and duller until I am blind to the machinations of my own demise.