Does taking solace in someone else's loneliness make me a bad person?
This feels like it will end up being one of those stream of consciousness, list-esque entries because I don't have much of a focus for my thoughts today. So be it.
How am I? Sick. Busy. Happy. Empty. Usually all at the same time. I had a discussion with a friend about how the key to happiness is just being busy enough so that you don't have time to be miserable, and I'm finding that this is true. I have been adequately distracting myself so that it is the infrequent moment when the tired, silly angst grabs me. Those moments still hurt like hell, though.
How are you? Everyone I know seems to be in different conditions. Existing, falling, thriving, succeeding, coping, waiting. Whoever you are, I hope the state you are in is a happy one.
I hate having secrets, especially when it is only from one person because they are so hard to maintain, and often so pointless.
Not only is this a self centered, list-like stream of consciousness entry, it is a short one. I have run out of thoughts, worries, or complaints. I'm exhausted through and through and racking my brain for more substance is proving too much, and putting this off for another day feels like a waste of what little I have penned. So good night, my precious friends. Tomorrow is a busy, distraction filled day.
Sometimes there are moments where time seems to hang palpably in the air and you can look around you and see everything as it really is and you take a deep breath and the world suddenly comes into focus so sharply that you can see into your future. It's like a freight train of certainty spotted in the distance and as the steam curls up towards the sky you know you can't and won't do anything about it.
I need to move out. Unfortunately, my lack of income is prohibitive of this, and so I am left playing the ever popular "avoid my family" game.
It's not that I don't love my mom, or enjoy seeing Linda all the time. It's that I feel like my own person with my own life, and living as a subordinate within my family's life is beginning to make me burst at the seams. It's little things, like Linda lecturing me about clothes, or my mom presuming that she still has say over what I do outside of the house. I'm very well aware that while I live here, not paying rent or bills or even buying my own food, that I am to abide by house rules. There aren't that many and I don't have rebellious desires that conflict with said rules, so life is not terrible. It just gets frustrating when choices I make and actions I take that are completely removed from my life at home are suddenly criticized and labeled as something I am "not allowed" to do while living here. I think if I want to run around downtown Chicago naked, doing 3 story beer bongs, and stealing candy from children that it is my perogative. My mom can worry about my scandalous, drunken, and illegal behavior, yes, but I don't think she can tell me that I "can't" engage in said activities.
As long as I am here, I feel like a spoiled, petulant child. Perhaps that is all I really am, and maybe that's all I'll ever be until I get tossed out and have to face the harsh realities of "real life". We'll see.
I am watching one of those asian beetles slowly die, and it is honestly one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever seen. It's one of those trainwreck scenarios where it's horrible, and you can't really do anything about it, but you just can't look away.
I'm one of those females of the "ridiculous" classification, and I recognize this, even if I don't condone it. I often do things that I know will hurt me, emotionally, in the long run simply because I can't let go, or my curiosity gets the better of me. Sometimes this is enabled by subconscious dreams and then aggrevated by some boy's uncanny bad timing, but it is mostly my own fault.
There is nothing I want more out of life than to be Happy. "Be Happy" is my Number One Priority, after all. This isn't to say that I am currently unhappy with my life situation, I am happy, very much so, in pretty much all departments including the romantic division. I am just crippled by one stupid, ricidulous, and incomprehensibly fruitless burden.
I keep telling myself it's a phase, or that I was so lacking excitement in my life that I built this up to something way out of proportion, but a part of me, most of me, disagrees. It feels real, undeniably and painfully real. I can't pretend that I don't feel physically sick over this when I fail to adequately distract myself, and I can't deny that all I am doing with my absolutely incredible life right now is just that: distracting myself. I am thouroughly disgusted with the fact that I am spoiling all of my opportunities for happiness, my internship, my friends, this Alex thing, radio, speech team, with this one completely irrelevant and pointless trouble.
I'm not sure if I've iterated enough how stupid this "problem" is. It's so stupid, that it's not even actually a problem. It's me being irrational and dwelling on something that doesn't even exist. I stated in the immediately preceeding entry that when something petty is bothering you, it sucks ten times harder because then you feel guilty and stupid for even worrying about this situation. In essence: I feel really shitty about feeling shitty over something that isn't real. God, I love being me.
To keep you up to date, my beetle is flipped over on it's back, probably in the last throes of whatever poison it walked across, and because I am too grossed out by bugs, I can't even find the gumption to flip it over to let it die with dignity.
Red blooded, White skinned oh and the Blues. I got the Blues! I got the Blues! That's me! That's me!
Dreams facinate me. From what I remember from my psychology class, no one knows why we dream, just that every single living person on this planet does it. Maybe dreams are supernatural visions. Maybe they are our memories working overtime. Perhaps they are just chemical misfires.
The worst dreams are not nightmares, because upon awakening you know full well they were nothing more than apparitions trapped inside your skull. The dreams of your subconscious, the ones that bring issues to light so blatently that you cannot even fool yourself into ignoring, those are the worst. When you wake up and know full well that your dream mirrored how you truly feel and your gut becomes clenched with guilt that comes from being unable to run away, those are the worst.
It's funny how worrying about stupid, inconsequential things makes you feel worse than worrying about real problems. It's this phenomenon where something fairly mundane wrecks your day, but you aren't an idiot and realize that it shouldn't be bothering you in the first place, so you feel twice as shitty for getting worked up about something dumb.