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I get caught up sometimes in thinking logically. Outside the house, in the world that everyone else occupies, where everything makes sense.
When I was in the store aisle, I got products for skincare.
Don’t get me wrong, I definitely do want to have better skin and a healthier body. I don’t want to look dirty and dried up despite being clean and whatever.
But then I got home and walked into my room. It’s quite messy in here. It feels like a reflection of me. Ugly covers, a blanket sprawled over it. Half the room doesn’t even belong to me despite the other occupant not coming in here, like ever. My dresser has a bunch of items randomly dropped on it. And it has the dimness makes it look dreary, sad.
I don’t even wanna look in the closet.
What’s the point of trying to polish and redesign something that is already so miserable looking? No matter how many times I make it all neat and perfect again—the half of the room remaining untouched, not mine and it just makes the room look bad—it returns to this state of mess and dreariness. No matter how many times I shave my legs, exercise half heartedly for a week, delete internet surfing/time wasting apps, or catch up with my school work, I always end up in this place. With my displeasing (to say the least) face, hair that cannot fix the rest of me, fudging bushes for legs, and dry skin.
The list is endless.
The worse it gets, the less I want to fix it. Although, if it got better, I wonder if I would somehow find the drive to carry on.
I just want to sleep and pretend that none of this exists but I know that if I try to pretend, I will only wake up and have this realization once again. Would prolonged realization numb me to the feeling? Or maybe, I should just stop feeling. Stop feeling and finish everything and clean everything and take of myself without feeling. If only that were really a possibility.
That I’d robotically wake up early everyday, teeth, get some work in, get dressed, go to school and actually work, work on the way home, take a break to do nothing (legitimately), exercise, shower, skin things, work some more, teeth, go to sleep early without any aid.
A clean room.
Eating when hungry or offered.
Silence and peace in social abstinence.
A matter of self control, so why do I feel like I need the help of someone besides myself? Like I can actually find someone to just keep me on this kind of track. Even my parents wouldn’t, they only bother me about homework and church. It just doesn’t feel worth it if I do things on my own and how unfortunate that is go cry about it you unmotivated piece of lard my god why can’t you just DO SOMETHING FOR ONCE and I feel
That frustration at myself
But I am the one to blame
Why does it feel so hard to pick myself up off the floor? It’s been more than 5 seconds that I’ve been down and I don’t think I am good anymore. Not even to pick up and put in the trash, what an analogy.
I find it funny. And hopeless. That I write and I write and I write and write and write about all the things I wish I did! And continue to sit listlessly on my bed or on my floor listening to the sounds of the world coming from my window. Nobody is going to save me from myself and nobody cares. Why does that cause me not to care as well? Physically. Where did my energy go? Did I spend it all for the day? I couldn’t become dependent on someone’s care even if I wanted to, and I do want to, so badly. But if I can’t take care of myself, why would I drop such a burden on someone else?
Why exactly can’t I take care of myself?
I don’t feel worth being taken care of.
Appearance. Abilities. Insufficient energy. Personality or lack thereof.
I already know what’s wrong with those so there’s no point in asking.
People in the world say that everyone is beautiful. That everyone is special in their own way. That nobody is boring and you’ve just met the wrong person. That everyone has their own person for them. That nobody is undeserving of love and care. And that nobody is ugly, we just “live in a society” (😭).
So why do I feel like an exception to these beliefs?
Why must beauty be a concept. Why do we have to measure anyones skills or characteristics at all. It only creates a scale for one to feel less than. Or more than. Or only average. Superiority. Inferiority. Strange/weird. And completely normal (which has now come to have both negative and positive connotations). Why is there a scale. Weight. Grades. Social shortcomings. Style. Interests.
All concepts. What is real? What am I, without a scale? 14. Biologically female. Normal BMI. Not a very feminine style nor very masculine. Quiet. Thinker. Hairy. Low self esteem. Few but at the same time, many interests. Writer. Black.
All that I could really be in another person’s eyes. So why does anything even matter at this point if everything about my life is so small. Little. Plain. Dark and dreary ha.
I think I’ve grown quite tired of caring. Fatigued at the thought of another day, so much so that I can’t begin to imagine it. I got enough sleep last night. Why am I already ready to hibernate. Why contemplate? Why be wary? Why give it any thought at all when you could just be. And feel. And see. And leave. I wish I could. But I think too much. And I don’t do the right things, thinking or not thinking. I feel like I need a keeper. Someone to keep me on task without giving me the anxiety or happiness that comes with interacting with anyone. I need another version of myself to be here with me to push me around. Maybe then I’d have the strength to get up and off of this floor.
My body feels heavy. My face might droop, fall right off onto my phone. I don’t know. I’m kind of just wasting my own time. Wasting resources. Wasting and wasting and wasting away without purpose. Because, I don’t know what else to do? I should stop going on lives, streams, games. Wasting electricity. Stop turning on the fan for white noise too. Stop eating for no reason, they actually have reasons to live while I am just here. For no reason at all.
When I close my eyes, everything is much better. Nothing worries me there, in my mind space without thought. But everyday, I’m forced to open them, face the people of the world with nothing to offer, slump back home into this space that is so safe yet so hateful. And I close my eyes again, hoping that, maybe this time I won’t open them up again to such a tiresome place and time.
This entry solves nothing. But infinite shut eye is definitely a calming daydream.
But I think, if you did things in segments it would help. You know. Without music or any sounds created by yourself purposefully. Just work and lie down. Then do something else and lie down. You probably could go a few days without supplements seeing as you barely ever get hungry or thirsty. Just live out a daydream in segments. Maybe then. Just maybe. You and I could at least
rest? no it feels more like swimming. Floating in the chill yet warm feeling. The absence of concern.
But I really want to get off this floor and do all these things but it feels impossible though I know it isn’t I just can’t. And now I’ve got Reddit making me feel like I’ve got adhd but I don’t think so because I would’ve fudging been diagnosed. So now the only conclusion I’m left with is sleep deprivation (denied, I’ve done much more on much less than I have now (I have enough)) or lazy (my mom called me it before and now it’s part of my personality idk what to do).