It took more motivation than it should have to write this. Just this.
This small piece of insignificant garbage that's sole purpose is
getting words down as I have some small shred of esteem when I do. I
am sick of being the drama queen, really sick, but my head isn't
right and I have less motivation to fix it than I did to begin this
strenuous piece of insignificant garbage.
I find myself repeating Brandos bit from Along The Waterfront ;
'I coulda been a contender'. Great line and I believe I could have,
shit maybe still can. But not while my head is wrong and I have no
willingness to fix it. It is not a willingness not to be better,
to feel better. I want that more than anything, but that mountain
doesn't seem worth crossing.
I am increasingly skeptical of therapy and that initial push is the
hardest fucking thing. Its coming into me and out of me in strange
ways- clinical depression, anxiety, whatever. I feel sorry for people
to extreme levels over something they probably don't and I am having
weird crying spells in the car. I am losing control of myself and I
don't know how to get back hold of it. Trying hard to crawl out of a
hole but the bottom is dropping, all the time dropping.
But its when you don't even try to crawl that you let it in, you let
it get you. And once it has you, its a bitter marriage of
convenience. It might be the worst possible feeling, but trying to
fight it in vain might be worse. Besides it all you're used up and
the worst of the worst is you don't know what to do about anything.
Except maybe tap out a small piece of insignificant garbage.
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