Thursday, August 9, 2012
I fear that I'm regressing. The stereotypical "two steps forward, one step back" feels more like ten steps back right now. One of the worst times since TJ died was my 5 month mark. Which was this month last year, come to think of it. I'm feeling the same way I was then. I hate having to try so hard. I want so badly to sit back and allow the world to unfold around me with absolutely no interaction on my part. If only it were that simple. I've attempted to let everything go but it just won't stick. And that makes me bitter. True to form, I'll keep getting out of bed. I'll keep going to work. I'll keep preparing for school. I wish I were the negligent type. I get so tired of the obligation to participate. All I wish for is to be the lump under the bed sheets. To be left alone with my thoughts. I am a ghost but masquerade as someone corporeal. I should have an Oscar for my performances every day. Pretending to be functional. Clinging wildly to the slightest hint of excitement I can find and exaggerating the shit out of it. I feel hollow but I hide it well. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking there are so many good things in life to live for. So many people who love me and want the best for me. I say to you of course there are plenty of reasons to keep going. The list reads like a reverent prayer and makes up my daily pep talk. How do you suppose I made it this far, huh? I am being honest about the feelings I'm having today. And though I should be thankful (whereas days like today- it's regrettable) I am never fully able to stop caring about happiness. About love. Even as I just described all of my fantasies for a sedentary life, my survival instincts were kicking in. It occurs to me that there is an innate response in all of us to fight to stay alive even when the odds are against us. Nature can sometimes be cruel.