I hate being this tired all the time, and can't wait until this is all over. Never in my life have I felt so spent, so drained of energy; I hate the fact that I've given up everything for something that I don't even want. That I never even wanted in the first place, even though I keep convincing myself that I made the right choice based on common sense. But then again, fuck common sense. Seriously, since when did that shit do me any good in the first place?
I've always acted on instinct and will and being forced to rein my impulses in is a feeling that I don't quite know how to describe, but everything now seems routine. Forced. I can't even say I enjoy the company of people I love any more, not as much as I used to at least, simply because I constantly feel like I have to be happy and cheery. Strip that away from me, and you've honestly got nothing. Well, bitter thoughts and years of pent-up cynicism, but then again who really needs to know that? I'd be a boring individual if that was all there was to me. Frankly speaking that's what I'm most afraid of turning into and yet it seems to become more real with every passing moment. I'd be no fun. And that's my selling point as a friend, isn't it? I'm the fun one, the cheery one, the quirky weird one that does her own damn thing when she wants, where she wants.
Even the thought of freedom seems so distant, and not something I can derive any sort of happiness from.
All the little victories I've been feeling as of late seem to dwindle away in a matter of seconds. Nothing seems to complete me any more, and I'm faced with the daunting reality that while this will all be over soon a part of it will always be carried with me. While one might argue otherwise, I don't believe this has turned me into a better person. Someone who knows how to act better in public, maybe. I've become better at keeping up appearances and at holding back my thoughts. Definitely skills I'll need out there in the real world, but then again, is it worth all the resentment that's built up as of late?
I can't even say who I resent- nobody here is to blame, so I channel it within myself. There are all these little horrible things about me that I can't help but hate, the jealousy and possessiveness and just the fucking jealousy that never seemed to rear its ugly head. But then again you can argue that it's only as of late that I've been able to truly care about people once again, and sometimes while it's worth it sometimes it fucking hurts. Sometimes it's tempting to return to the numbness and selfishness of me in my first year. Caring for someone is, more often than not, a conscious choice for me. I decide whether the person is worth giving two fucks about and withdraw if I decide they aren't, even though I can appear to on the surface, and way back then I can honestly say that there was one person I truly cared about in my university circles. Maybe it's worth flitting from person to person and place to place, using the temporary high from my adventures and escapades to fill in the emptiness that was true attachment deep down. At least I was happy. More often than not I wonder whether it was a good trade-off, though I understand that human relationships are often so much more tangible than tasting experiences, and that this is a choice that is probably for the wiser.
Perhaps in a few years I'll come back and realise that my woes now were so trivial (are so trivial?) but right now, it all feels very daunting and very real. Trivial, yes, but definitely solid, and I can't help but feel as though I shouldn't be feeling this way because of how much else I have going for me. On paper I have everything I ever wanted, and more, but at the same time I just wish that there would be a period of my life where I didn't always feel so...
Empty.
This is why you have to love your job, kids. Hate it and you become a bitter, angry shell of yourself.
70.
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