LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
2016-11-30 20:46:03 (UTC)

insert something about sisyphus here

November 30, 2016 Wednesday 7:46 PM


You know, sometimes I wonder. I really wonder.

I am calm. I am very, very calm. I am calm enough to realize I'm wearing my horse blinders. I am not thinking straight. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay. Repeat after me. I'm okay. Repeat until it becomes truth.

Sisyphus is my favorite myth, of all myths, and I think it's pretty easy to realize why if you know the story. Maybe not the whole story. I don't live like Sisyphus lived, but I'm tied to his hell, y'know? It's supposed to be some kind of description of human existence, I guess.

Or actually, it's not supposed to be anything.

It just is.

It's one of those timeless stories. Those always carry the most weight. Always.

I guess I am trying to say – I guess I am trying to say – I guess I want to shut up.

I can never write a note. I think a note would freak me out to much. Like, what the hell are you supposed to say? What the hell else makes any sense besides "I'm tired"?

You know it's not totally sane, right?

I mean, it's not INsane. It–

Oh shit, I'm not calm all of a sudden! Oh shit, is it growing?

Oh shit, I'm calm again.

Oh shit, it probably is growing.

Oh, who am I kidding? I don't know. I never know. I can not see it. I am in need of actual, professional help, probably, and I'm also kind of really stupid for not wanting it because I "don't have time."

What would Ruth say?

She'd be all, go get help, only it would sound a lot sweeter coming from her and I would feel terrible because it's like I'm a perpetual disappointment.

That's my perception, though. My twisted perception.

I am a person. That's it. There are no real, important expectations of me outside of the ones I have for myself.

I cannot grasp this.

What does that mean? Does it mean that I'm selfish in addition to "everything else"?

My dad came home last Saturday. He said, "Every one of the [My Last Name]'s thinks the world revolves around them."

He said it really sadly, and he was acting very strange. Maybe he's not acting strange. I mean, I keep thinking everyone is acting strange lately...

Yesterday I told my dad to step on the fucking pedal and go.

Those words exactly.

Step on the fucking pedal and go.

I was late for school, in the passenger seat.

Not an excuse – just context.

I mean, I really felt floaty in those two seconds, like it wasn't me talking. In my memory, my own voice sounds muffled, but I've been re-remembering the moment so much that I've probably mangled the truth of the event by now.

I feel really bad about it and I apologized because, just. I'm not the kind of person who swears at their parents, no matter how angry I am.

But I did it because I'm depressed or something.

I don't actually think I'm depressed, except for I must be because...

Calm down, calm down, calm down, I'm really tired of not being calm. I'm really tired of feeling anything at all.

I'm really tired.

Frankly, I kind of want to kill myself. The issue is, I don't want to die. I just really want to die, is all.

I must be confused. It must be something else that I want. Not death, just some kind of safety. Some kind of rest.

Maybe I want the kind of thing that doesn't exist. Ha. No doubt!

I'm sorry, people. Really sorry. This sucks. This really sucks, and I want to Not Feel This Way, but wanting that makes it harder to obtain, which makes me want to die even more, and that makes me think about how to do it exactly, which I have been doing more often in the last three months but it's okay because it only happens in spurts.

Last time was October.

Can something be timeless if it has a firm attachment to a time period?

Like, Shakespeare is embedded in the Renaissance, and you could argue that his plays are timeless, but maybe they aren't. I mean, I don't know a lot of Shakespeare fans. But then again, that's a very stupid point. It's the messages in Shakespeare's works that make him last.

But doesn't that mean the attachment isn't that firm?

How about I stop wasting brain space on this? How about instead, I fill it up with terrible feelings?

Ah, they're there anyway.

So, yes.

In all ugliness, honesty, whatever: I hate my classmates, I hate my friends, I hate my schoolwork, and I especially hate myself. I want to die. I hate my classmates because I can't seem to be friends with them (so: I hate myself), hate my friends because they're imperfect and I can't deal with it (so: I hate myself), hate my schoolwork because it's work and I'm tired and I'm always tired, no rest is ever e-fucking-nough (again: I hate myself).

Thinking about tomorrow morning makes me want to die.

Thinking about next week makes it worse.

Thinking about next month...

So I can't think. I'm thinking right now, and I shouldn't be. I knew this. And yet.

You know, I know I always say this but I really thought this would go away. (It will go away!) And then it will be back. And you say, oh whatever, we can survive! Yes, we can. Miserably. Our life is terrible, and for one reason: you.

All you.

And because I started this with sisyphus, it feels like I should end it with sisyphus. For, y'know, some semblance of organization.

Of course, I also feel kind of pretentious comparing an absolute Lack Of to a boulder rolling down the hill, and me to a dude whose eternal punishment is to roll it back up that hill. I guess the hill is life or something.

See? Stupid and empty like everything else. I can't seem to see it any other way. I want to die. The funny thing is, I wouldn't want to die so bad if I actually thought I had the guts to kill myself????

So, again. It's probably not death I want.

But it sure feels like it.

K, as for sisyphus:

Hey, dude. You're trapped. I guess you could also call me "trapped" except probably not in comparison to your whole situation. Point is, sucks man. I feel. I hope the interludes of semi-contentedness are worth it. Probably not, though, right?


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