5/8/2012 1:59am

When in reality it’s my own reluctance to take a step in any direction that has me trapped. I fear “what if I never take another step,” but this question—this fear—is what perpetuates my situation. I must let the illusion go, too. I must let go of everything in order to move on. 

Move on to what? To where? To whom? And why must I move on? Why can I not just spend eternity in the broken darkness behind my eyelids and under my pillow? Well, because that is not logical, and where would we be without logic? Well, I wouldn’t be here, stuck, spinning. So fuck logic, eh? Just pick a direction and flow, eh? Just don’t stay still, eh? My mind will wander farther than my courage will take me—So follow your dreams and forget your fears. First, I must dare to dream.

5/4/12, 1:51 am

Physically, no doubt. “I think, therefor I [must have a brain].” But my entire life I’ve felt a bit… extra. I don’t know if everyone breaks things down in to what-ifs like I do, but what if that one time my two halves didn’t meet? I mean, I could be two zygotes floating freely through the ocean, not affecting anything on shore except maybe one infinitesimal portion of the tide (like, less than that cannonball I did back in ‘06). My mum might have gone on to college, dad might not have left the state, hell, the two may have even ended up together! (in which case some other mentally unstable being would more than likely be in existence this fine, spring eve… Preferable, I suppose, only because he or she would not be me.) That caterpillar may have become a butterfly, those lizards may have remained free… Sure, a few more weeds would have grown, but I don’t believe that anyone would be any worse off. And myself? Well, as I said, I’d be one half way across the world and one half anywhere else. No one would be wise of my whereabouts, none would worry of when I won’t be around. The world might even be saved some amount of disappointment (I sure would). Just like one thing leads to another, change one bounce on the plinko wall of life and the ball ends up some factor of pi in another direction. But we all know that can’t happen, life only moves in one direction, and it CAN’T make any wrong turns, eh? We can only be expected to do the best we can with what we have at any given point in time (time: a principle manufactured by man in order to achieve some illusion of perspective and therefor control. It’s existence has lead to the false assumption that events past can be changed by going “backwards” along some imagined “timeline.”). Apparently now the best I can do is hide in a fantasy where I don’t even exist. In my thoughts I seek mindlessness… Once I found it through void meditation, but now I’m blocked by some kind of mental plague… What if I left? What if I dove headfirst into the darkness? The Nothing? The End? I seek abyssal bliss… Where all is nothing and I am all… Where does one find the freedom not to exist? Do I devote my life to fighting my will to survive? Or do I “grow up”? Or do I vanish? “This one goes out to the one I love.”

That these do not have dates… So this is 5/1/12 and 2:00 in the AM.

That if I think about something I haven’t done long enough, I inevitably choose not to do it.

That if I think about something I have done long enough, I find a way to convince myself that it was worthless.

That if I think about something I am doing long enough, I lose the energy, motivation and overall drive to do it.

That if I sit still long enough, it’s like I travel forward in time.

That if I work my ass off, everyone else seems to speed up and I begin to feel left in the dust…

Too tired to keep this up tonight, maybe I’ll flip this later.

Good night

Seriously need to find this movie… -_- I’m long past due for a change in perspective.

As incomprehensible as eternity.

As I slip slowly into ennui, I wish it were not reflex to breathe.

In the giddiness of hypoxia I would forget to scream,

and never know suffocation from dream…

Posthumous redemption: Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

-Je l’espere.

And all this time I’ve been searching for “real goals.” psh.

All talk, no brass, arrogant, selfish, conniving, lazy, mooching, manipulative, passive-aggressive, socially awkward, fickle, fucking loser. (Well… Didn’t take long to figure out why I hate myself…)

Now I’m supposed to replace these with more positive thoughts…

All talk: I have big ideas but don’t have the means or know how to follow through, so I get discouraged before I am able to act… That wasn’t so bad…

No brass: I’m not a pussy, I just believe that 98% of conflict is meaningless and therefor prefer to find a logical solution to problems so I don’t end up beating my head against a wall.

Arrogant: I AM intelligent, and I do know what the fuck I’m talking about when I choose to open my mouth… :/ I struggle with this because I still feel that so many other people are incompetent. I have a superiority complex, how do I make that a positive? Call it confidence?

Selfish: This is just bullshit; Just because I don’t devote my life to everyone else doesn’t mean I’m selfish—you have to live for yourself because no one else is going to. You have to pay yourself first.

Conniving: I think. A lot. It’s part of being intelligent. To NOT use my mind to get what I want would be stupid. I don’t do things to hurt others, and the things I do for myself are not done at the expense of others. I am not a bad person.

Lazy: I am struggling—both physically and mentally—as a result of my poor mental health. I am not inept, I am not worthless, I am not hopeless, I’m just trapped in a pit of despair, and it’s going to take a while to claw my way out. I must be patient and remember that my lack of motivation is not a reflection on my character but a symptom of my depression.

Mooching: Again, I am struggling. It’s okay to need help from time to time and utilizing it is actually a smarter choice than trying to go it alone. I am not here to take advantage of anyone, I have no feelings of entitlement and I have no intention of living off of others for any longer than I need to.

Manipulative: I think ahead when dealing with people to avoid unnecessary conflict and to stay on good terms; I do not blackmail, extort or use people for my own benefit or amusement. As long as I am sincere, I don’t need to consider myself manipulative.

Passive-aggressive: This kind of behavior is a defense mechanism that I picked up early on. It served me well for many years and so it is expected that I would be reluctant to give it up. Its recent occurrence can probably be attributed to the re-induction into the hierarchy in which it was developed. I’ll work on it, but it is also not a reflection on my character.

Socially awkward: One common symptom of depression is isolation, not only mentally as in feelings of isolation but often physically as well. In times when I am not depressed, I have to trouble speaking to others—and am actually quite personable. This, too, is simply a symptom of my depression.

Fickle: I don’t know what I want, I don’t have any goals and I don’t know how to plan or make a decision, let alone follow through. I’m also 19 and have several good decades ahead of me in which to figure out what I want, make goals, plans, and decisions AND follow through with them. Dwelling on the fact that I haven’t already done these things only prevents me from doing so now and draws my focus entirely away from my future. So what if I’m fickle? I’ve still got time to do just about everything.

Fucking loser: Ha. Do you see what I just did? Do you know how bad that first list sounded, and how good I feel now? I’m not a loser. I am a determined, intelligent, mature, interesting, personable, confident, problem-solving bad-ass with a future, friends, hopes, dreams, aspirations and a positive attitude! Fucking loser… As if :)

:O I got through the whole list… In one sitting… I didn’t think that was possible… Wow… So, what do you hate about YOURself (hehe… I’m pretending I have readers…)?

But apparently part of my “self-loathing” is that I refuse to recognize progress as progress. Even now, I type this shit and then I think “Why? Why do I bother? No one cares.” But what? No shit, nobody cares, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here for me, and what hurts is that I don’t care. How does one care about their self? I don’t know… I hate myself because it’s easier than caring—because it’s possible when caring doesn’t seem to be. I want to do something hard.

That everything is fine again? That is pretend again, I’ve known not “fine.”

Why can’t I just run away from it all? And if I can’t, then what the fuck am I supposed to do to fix it? Yeah, yeah, yeah… Fucking I AM GETTING HELP, but meeting once a week to discuss how “well” the previous week went isn’t getting me anywhere… The bitch is that I was improving and all the sudden I’m “self-medicating” harder than ever—for good reason: I found my issue in therapy and drove a scalpel right through the festered center of it… Through at least three years of scar tissue, too. All this time I thought I was depressed because of some sports injury, bad grades, money issues, lost job, lost friends, lost home—nope, it’s all about some dumb girl. All these feelings of failure? They’re from my “failure” to stand up and just fucking say “Hey, I fucking love you. Fuck the world, I wanna be with you for it.”

Sour grapes? Bull shit, they’re just as sweet as I originally thought they were. Could we just pretend… That they’re sour again? That is pretend again, you’re so damn sweet…

The truth isn’t even real yet and I’m reeling… Bracing myself for impact, maybe… Except Depression doesn’t come with cyanide. To end depression, you have to die: Whether that’s the old you, the real you or otherwise is your decision, but Depression will tell you which to choose. I don’t like myself (it’s called self-loathing) so do I kill what I don’t like? Yes. But if I don’t recognize what it is that I don’t like, I’m the one that’s going to end up dead—from going with the flow to floating face down in the river.