LustingforNightmares

tumbleweed
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2019-07-01 23:09:41 (UTC)

"chaos arpeggiating" ..

"chaos arpeggiating" by of Montreal [a fitting song for today's emotional state]


July 1, 2019 Monday 11:09 PM

Hold on—gotta poop.
Poop done. It's been four minutes. Here is the rundown:

I felt better. Kind of bad but better; as one does on a break from work. Today I had an 8 hour day and I felt kind of good in the morning. Happy and excited; this quickly waned.

I get real in my head while I am at work. I keep thinking I am not worth anything. And no one is asking my opinion because I have nothing to offer and I don't know anything. This isn't even wrong, this is exactly the case. Anyway, it is a bit discouraging to be around all of these talented people while I have—nothing.

I'm, like, impotent. In every possible way. Like, today I found out my crush Melvin is also a creative writing major and I was both somewhat elated and really upset (he writes in the realm of magical realism, he said). Because I felt so interested in the work he produced, since I've seen that he is an anxious workaholic and those types reliably produce pretty good stuff. Not saying it is the only path to success, and it's probably not even the best way—but it is the easiest to identify.

Which I saw because he never really eats, and he's always really down on himself (like, to the point of excess), and his nails are bitten bloody. Normal people don't do that stuff. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I remember any interactions we've had with painful clarity, lmao. Emphasis on the painful. I can probably count the number of times he's asked me if I'm okay (which is a lot, since he asks me almost every day) and I also remembered that one time I pointed out he didn't eat more than, like, a cereal bar in the span of six hours and he said, "You noticed that?" all quiet-like. And also he talks about the Office too much. All of this remembered with absolutely horrible tenderness. I have probably not felt this intensely for another person in—who even cares?

It's not gross because I think love is gross. It's not gross at all, actually. There is, however, a cringe factor sourcing from the very depressing but true fact that it is the same story as any unreciprocated and desperate crush. I mean, I feel like a child. I just want to impress him. I just want him to like me, to look at me, to see something in there. Which is a whole 'nother level of tragic, because it's like I'm trying to fill that void where a self-esteem should be with a guy I barely know and who could care less about me. I keep trying to convince myself otherwise, of course—hence the person-specific eidetic memory.

I am exhausted, so it says something that all my energy is going into recounting this, lmao. But if I don't talk about it it's going to gunk up in the folds of my brain and nothing with get through. Not that anything has been getting through for a while. I miss not being lonely. Or, at least, being relatively content with my loneliness. I was a lot more goal-driven then, haha. I'm probably misremembering.

Point being, there is that horrible emotional elasticity that comes from a crush, the push and pull of inadequacy. Definitely doesn't help the already dire situation I am in, which is that I feel absolutely useless and inert and did I already say impotent? It's been my one thought today.

Oh. Another thing about Melvin. He popped up on my Facebook feed as a potential friend, so of course I had to look at it and I saw these links he'd posted of articles he published and one that dealt with depression and I couldn't read all of it. It was very good, which is why I had to stop. This happened to me while I was going through something sometime after work so I immediately started crying.

I dunno—I got out of work and felt panicked, but like, in that numb way I get when I know something bad is coming. I just didn't want to go home. I sat in this small garden near the film department and I was just meaning to lie down but I had to read the article—see, at first I resisted and closed my browser like I'd been looking at fucking porn, which it might as well have been—so I read it and then I freaked out because suddenly I just felt so lost.

Like—how is it that I've gotten this far without having done anything? How is it that I'm still crying several times a week at 20 years old? I had all these thoughts at once, I'm not even sure I can parse them out. At some point I was thinking that I had been numb at some point but I couldn't remember what that was like except for that at the time I seemed to think it was the worst thing in the world and that being sad was better than nothing, and I wanted to say to my past self, YOU ASSHOLE. You asshole. You fucking asshole.

It's harder and harder to be nice to myself. I talked out loud into the garden, telling myself that we will never be productive human beings if every step backward is a compensation for one forward, only probably in more words and with more intermittent maniacal laughter. I kept imagining Melvin pulling up in his stupid fucking Prius, asking me if I was okay. In reality, if he found me like that, I'd be so fucking embarrassed, that that is the Veronica that he meets and not the normal one that has a sense of control.

I can't remember if I took my antidepressants. Gonna take another just in case.

I saw a catbird and heard its mewling. It was so wonderful—I hadn't yet connected that birdsong to that particular bird. I watched as it fluffed its own feathers.

Oh god I have such an awful headache. I've had this one since June 27. I feel nauseated.

I talked to my sister at some point; I wondered if I should take a semester off. But I'm realizing I need to calm down a good amount before I make this decision. I need to calm down in general.

I feel very bad, haha. A crazy amount of bad. Luckily, I have therapy tomorrow for the first time in, like, 3 weeks, so. That should at least be nice. I am going to freak out! I looked away from this screen for a few moments to leave the world and enter a fantasy. I did not remember writing the sentence before. This has been happening pretty frequently—I get so distracted as I'm doing something that I, like, have small and pointless amnesia. Like, today for example, I forgot what my middle name was. I thought it was Maria, like my mom's name, but it's not. After some actual thoughts I figured out, lmao. I might be reading too much into a vague fog. I just... don't feel alert. I am so nested inside myself.

Okay. That's enough for tonight. I'm boutta watch something in an attempt to stop freaking out.

PS:
my roomie Matt was really nice to me today. I don't deserve that sort of kindness god damn it. I know he's going through something too and I feel really bad for also having stuff and for not being able to shut up about it. I wish I knew how to convey how much I appreciate him??? But I am a cold, cold fish.


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