Friday, December 12, 2003

The Nones of Enough.

I've been neglecting this thing to post in my LiveJournal more often. Plus I don't want to post "unhappy" depressing stuff in here as much, but, inevitably, I have, as seen by the past two posts.

I have no clue why I'm even posting in here anymore. This thing feels like it's dead to me at this point, and I'm losing interest in place for my better, more entertaining journals and their communities. Well, at this point anyway. Lots of people seemed to have updated today, though, and I finally went to Jenna's blog after a while of not paying attention. At least I did that much.

This week passed in some kind of blur. It doesn't even feel like Friday. I don't feel happy, just somewhat content to some point or reason.

I am very scared about Geometry at this point. The last I checked my grade in there--which was mid-terms--I had a D. And we took our test in there this Wednesday, and haven't gotten it back yet, which is good. Because I don't want to see that test.

I have been really leaving of reality lately. I push everything in my way that's a reality away, not caring any longer. But still I act as if I care, when I don't.

This weekend I should get a job...my parents are endlessly stressing it. Today I should also edit my column, story, and finish my short all for Journalism. But I just don't care to an extent. To an extent I do, and that's at least in getting things done to some small piece. Then I just push it away.

I feel drained, tired, and sick of everything I see. I feel like just listening to music or going for a walk or sleeping endlessly. I just do not want to face the reality of everything anymore. It drains me too much.

I don't want to see that it's already half way through this year, and next year I'll be a senior, and I'll be graduating. I don't want to see myself going to college, taking my generals for some years, just as sick and uncaring as I am now. I don't want to see myself be degraded in my writing if it isn't the same thing which is expected of a good writer. I don't want to face the reality that as much as I have put my heart into writing, people still put these interdictions and still see that it has to be done a certain way. It just pushes me further down in realizing how writing is treated seemingly like everything else.

At this point writing is one of the only things that matters to me enough that I try to do it daily. It's one of the only things I feel I can talk fluently by, and express myself by. It's one of the few things I can put all my passion, hatred, apathy, empathy, into. It's the only thing I can bleed from, or eat from, and actually feel like I'm wounding myself to fix things at the same time, or actually filling me full of food.

It's the only thing that makes sense to me anylonger, along with pain. Pain is the only thing I ever see or feel anymore. When I learn about anything in school, it only gives me more pain. When I realize I have to get a job, and I have been putting it off almost half a year, all I feel is pain, and I feel that I am not good enough for what I have to do.

I don't even know what I am even saying here in this message box as I type. I'm just trying to slew together something that has meaning or reason, when actually there is no rhyme or reason to what I'm trying to say, because I myself don't even know what I'm trying to say.

I have been happy at times all week, but when I am happy is when I am actually least happy. When I am sad is when I'm most happy, because when I am sad I am seeing the reality of everything. And everything is saddening in this world as far as I see it.

There are beautiful things, but I am too shy to find them at this point. Things aren't as daunting as I am putting them, but I just don't care anymore. I just want this point in my life to be over and through with, but it can't be yet. It feels like I'm crawling through some endless chasm that goes deeper and deeper to get closer and closer to a light at its depths. I feel drained at this moment, like I could just lie down and sleep, or I could just melt into my music and not exist anylonger.

But I need to face the facts. And those facts are I need to get a job already, and I need to act like I care about it. And also that I need to excel at school, when I really don't care. I've been managing so far, but lately it feels like it's starting to fall apart.

Everything is like geometry at this point to me. In its basics it makes perfect sense, and is profoundly easy. But when I look at it closer and closer and realize the meticulum and tedium I see, I begin to understand the entire arc of things, and it hurts to know that this is all my life will ever be when I get to some certain point in it.

That point being when I'm middle aged, and I have my job, if I get one, and my wife, if I have one. To even picture myself like this is insane, and I don't want to know. And neither do I care. The fact of it is, I don't want to work my whole life in this society to no ends that justify the meat. It doesn't seem logical, it doesn't seem worth it. At this point I'd rather just not have been born, for I feel that I'm just like every other person, which I am, and I feel too that I won't be anything that matters. The only things I will matter to will die almost as soon as I do.

The only thing that is keeping me alive at this point is the internet, writing, and other people. That's the reason I'm alive, and also, to a more direct approach, I'm only alive for me at this point. I'm alive to an extent for every thing else I just mentioned, but when you look at it hard enough, it's because I'm living for me. It's a selfish, stupid existence in my opinion.

Sure I make other people happy, sure I make myself happy, sure I've affected something. But does it really matter? To those people who I actually care about somehow, it does.

Recently I talked to Ginny over AIM. It was the first time in months. We used to be pretty close, but it's debatable as to exactly how much. I mean, this is just the internet, after all. But it did help talking to her at the point where we were talking somewhat daily.

But it seems we are not even talking at all anymore. I even wonder if we'll talk again, ever, at all. It doesn't matter though. I do love her in some sense, not the full meaning of the implications of the word, though. But really, this is easily said, because I love a lot of things in some ways, and hate them in others, even more than Ginnny, I suppose.

Earlier when I was talking to Mimmi I told her that I don't matter, and I don't see why she would want to make me happy. I mean, I am just like any other person. I am just another person. I am nothing great. I don't matter that much.

I felt kind of sorry for saying it now that I think of it, at least in some sense. But it is the truth. I don't see why I'm that amazing.

I basically write and throw together words, and sometimes they work, and other times they do. I guess it's more than that, but my writing, it seems, is too personal to matter that much to too many people all at once. At least from what PT has told me.

It's funny that even when you put your heart into something, it's never, ever enough. I've been shown this time and time again. Because in the end, fighting something with your heart, or supporting it with your heart, is just going to end that thing falling on you in some way. You have to do what you're told to do by sociey, and by everyone around you. You can't use your heart, you can only use it when it is positive to you.

And it's sad this is like this. Because I know I am amazing writer when it comes, but I guess it's never enough for everyone. I'm not the best writer that ever lived, either.

So yes. I have a very low self esteem of myself at times.
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