Just a rant, nothing to see here.

I want to say No to Life.

 

Literally, to call Life up and go, “Oh hey Life, how have you been? Pouring yourself into creatures all over the world eh? I see I see. Well, just thought I’d call you and say NO. NO, NO, NO. Thanks for listening, talk to you soon yea?”

 

I’m just exhausted and drained, from doing literally nothing honestly. With each passing second, the need for a glass of wine or just a bottle of rum grows stronger. I had a burst of enthusiasm and optimism earlier today, writing out a list of what needs to be accomplished by when, and it honestly doesn’t look too bad. Pretty accomplishable in fact. But then I sink back into this mood. Nothing is interesting and everything is boring and I just can’t bring myself to do anything. To talk to anyone, to pick up this book and read about Post-Structuralism, to scroll through tumblr, to text anyone. I’m just sitting here moping and being all pathetic.

 

That’s the worst part I think, the intensity of how pathetic I feel. I made the mistake of reading some texts I sent to Q on Friday night and, my God, I’m pathetic. I look at them and feel the rushing of blood to my cheeks. Oh, for Shame woman, for SHAME. This is why I need to get my shit together.

 

But I’m not. I’m back to where I was 6 months ago, and it’s confusing. Regrets? Perhaps. But why not? Why not go for it? I always end up contacting him anyways, why not just accept it as a part of my life for now, and just go with the flow? It might be the guilt, the shame, the feeling of patheticness, the loneliness even, but I’m just in Such a Pickle. What should I do now? Pray? Stop all of it? 

 

It won’t end, it never really did. Life went on, but not a moment went by when I did not long for the past. It was a rollercoaster of hellish experiences, but at least I felt alive. Like there was something I was doing that proved I existed, that I was struggling like others, that there was something befuddling me and I had to Actively work it out. Because it’s much better than what I was feeling. To have no reason to move, to speak, to live. 

I read a quote somewhere, the gist of it being that we don’t find our reason for living, we have to make it. That’s true and beautiful, and I want to achieve that. I just don’t know where I am now. This is typical of 20 year olds, the whole existential crisis struggle. Good to know I’m experiencing it too like my fellow 20 year olds. It’s exhausting, but at least I’m on the right track. Or maybe it isn’t. But I’m not Special, that notion of being better and more unique than others is a disease plaguing Gen Y kids, and I will no longer subscribe to it.

 

I don’t really know what I’m trying to get at, just ranting I suppose. Overly dramatic as usual, forgive me. So here’s to trying to be more alive. To block out thoughts for now and do my duties. Because it’s easier that way.

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