Mar. 9th, 2013

rainspirit: (Default)
I don't want anyone worrying about me.

That's why I don't like asking for help. Even if I need it. People who know me, know that.

On my worst days, I try to protect other people from myself. I tell them that things are okay. I convince myself.

But I'm kidding, really. Telling lies, which I hate. It just twists things when I do. And I know: Things won't be okay until I start making goals for myself again. Things won't be okay until I stop hiding behind excuses and make myself into someone who wants to be here.

I just didn't want anyone to be disappointed, or worried about me. There's still time to fix things, isn't there? Isn't there still time? Always waiting till the deadline to get my act together, and when there's no deadline, I fall behind.

My mind has desperately been looking for role models, something to justify this supreme lack of drive, this lack of self. I look into the stories of younger days, looking into self-styled heroes and protagonists in their own story. It's okay, they were slackers too, they were confused and they couldn't find jobs and their friends worried about them too.

Some people can laugh about the times when they make earnest promises to themselves and then break them on the next day. Not me. Nope, I can't let myself do that, I have to make myself suffer for it. I have to guilt myself so hard that I run away again. Goddamnit, when am I going to break the cycle?

Matt invited me to see the rehearsal of the play, the rehearsal with the script I wrote. The script I meant to modify and send to him, and I can't get my act together enough to do that. Twenty minutes before they were going to put it on, I was cooking breakfast for myself and looking at the clock.

There's a games summit thing at my university, games without frontiers, talks I want to be in on, and I haven't gotten dressed for the day. What is wrong with me? Why can't I see beyond my own self-indulgences?

Why am I so stubborn to the voice that tells me to wake up?

All I've got are dreams that come and go. All I have are goals that I brush up against, as they reoccur, as I want them. Wanting is all I do these days. I can't commit. I go for what's easy. I stay oblivious. And people will abandon me for it, sooner or later. I won't be anything to them but a sad reminder.

Need to stop with this self-pity and stop writing and get up and at least get one thing done. Need to go to the post office and send my nephew a present, at the least, at the least. Promise myself that I'll look over my notes and revise the stories I want to tell, that I need to tell. Plan my own tiny little breakdown as I find I can't commit to my own goals.
rainspirit: (Default)
Missed it. Missed everything today.

Missed the deadline. Missed the post office (closed on weekends), won't be able to send the comic book family wanted me to send. Missed the talk about game's journalism among all the other events happening today at the Games without Fontiers thing. Missed Matt's play. Missed the swimming pool. That's what happens when you wake up at 11:00 and spend the whole morning/afternoon in, walking around being a complete basketcase.

Walked around school, counseling building, closed. Not open on weekends, maybe. Everything's closed after 5:00, which is when I got here. Nothing's open.

Talking to myself. Hurting myself with my own words, conversation with self turning violent. Wanting to hit a wall, or hurt myself. When I realized I missed everything I wanted to do today, I wanted to take the book in my hands and hit it against a wall. But I didn't have the energy. So now it's just self-hatred, bubbling up from my own lips.

I need help. I need to talk to people. I need to keep exercising my body so there isn't all this pent-up aggression.

But that's not going to happen, because I've fallen into a loop that I can't climb out from. And it's a loop that's going to kill me.

Maybe I was wrong. It's just getting worse. It's my own bad decisions that have gotten here, my own stupid pride. I keep going back on the verge of self-harm.

Nothing sticks.

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Rainspirit

May 2013

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