It's 1:03AM as I start writing this. I don't know why I'm still awake. I don't know why I'm writing again, or what possessed me to find my blog after two years of absence. I'm not even sure how I remembered the password.
I know nobody will read this (at least not anyone I know). I know writing this won't make me physically any less lonely, but maybe it will psychologically fill some void in me. I just have to believe that the internet is a very big place and given the laws of probability, somebody, someday, somewhere, will probably stumble onto my blog (just as I've randomly stumbled upon other blogs), and maybe they'll read this and it'll echo something within them that I think we all feel from time to time - insignificance.
I'm not talking about the good kind of insignificance that you feel when you gaze up at the beautiful stars and realize how big and wondrous the universe is. I'm talking about the kind of insignificance that starts as a creepy little voice in the back of your mind that tells you nobody will miss you if you kill yourself. That is the kind of insignificant feeling that consumes me now and again. I know the little voice is lying. Even though I lack a lot of friends, I still have family, and enough people that I know and who like me reasonably well and would miss me if I die.
I'm not talking about wanting to kill myself. I don't want to do that (not right now anyway). I don't advocate suicide EVER. If you've Googled suicide and come to my page, I can only hope that you realize these feelings of emptiness and void will pass you by and the world will be right again. I can't tell you it will be easy or that it will happen soon, but staying here is the much better option if you're looking to be happy again. It's a very strange and irrational thought process that depression forces people into. All you or I want is to be happy and to feel loved and important, but somewhere along the way the pain twists that desire into the urge to stop existing altogether. It's wrong and your psyche is lying to you. Please don't listen to it.
Anyway, I just felt obligated to put that blurb in there just in case somebody stumbles onto here looking for guidance (not that I'm a great resource).
How serious is life? This is a question I'm faced with often. On the one hand, it's just life, and it's been around forever and we're all just little blips on a gigantic timeline (see insignificant). On the other, life ends in death and it is the most serious and real thing that any of us will ever encounter. Should we face life like the insignificant and fleeting thing that it is, or should we reconcile with how real and serious it is for each one of us?
Terrible things happen all the time, but I've heard some people tell me that the only way to get through it all is to keep lighthearted and keep laughing. Maybe they're right. Maybe dwelling on the darkness and shame of it all is too much for any soul to bear and maybe that's why I find myself struggling to crawl out of the dark abyss and back into the daily motions that keep me from completely going insane.
Wonderful things happen too, but for some reason I can't shake the feeling that there aren't enough wonderful things to justify the level of disgust I have for the crimes of humanity. Shouldn't all those things that we take for granted (butterfly wings, sunshine, rainbows, etc.) be the norm? Why shouldn't we take those for granted? Am I just too greedy that I want it to be nice all the time, and therefore, when it's nice I kind of expect it to be that way. I mean, I'm happy about nice things, for sure, but they don't demand my attention. They shouldn't demand my attention; I don't have to do anything about them, or worry about them, or try to fix them. Terrible things, however, need to be fixed, and so they draw our focus.
Focus. This is something I think I've lost in my life recently. I'm more than halfway through college with a double major in two subjects that I don't really care much about (accounting and finance, if you must know). I don't regret my majors; they're both very practical business majors and will serve me well in getting a job that pays enough. I just don't have any passion in my life anymore. Then again, it's been so long that I can't remember a time when I had passion for anything. Maybe it's just an illusion. Maybe I'm just not a passionate person by nature and I need to reconcile with that.
I'm so alone and so lost. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know who's going to be there when I arrive. I don't really have goals for my life beyond finishing up my two degrees and passing a myriad of certification exams (CMA, CPA, et al.) to get further credentials in my fields. I'm terrified of not making it, of being a big fuck up. I don't want to be a failure. I don't want to be the girl that "had so much potential" and then never amounted to anything. It's frustrating because I'm not motivated by a desire to achieve or succeed, but instead I'm motivated by the fear of failing, of not being good enough. For what? I don't know. I don't know who I'm so terrified of disappointing. Myself?
I'm not a competitive person. I don't like to compete or race against others. I don't like to try very hard for things because I feel like I lose more when I try than if I can just shrug and say to myself, "well I'm not surprised by that outcome because I really didn't put in much effort." I want to be the best, and I get upset when I'm not automatically the best at something. It makes no sense! Why do I have to be the best when I don't even want to compete or put in effort? I can't possibly be naturally good at everything. Nobody has that much raw talent, and that's okay. I shouldn't punish myself for not being an Olympic gymnast. I just wasn't cut out for that and I didn't have the same opportunities. Not that I want to be an Olympic gymnast, I was just using that as an extreme example, but it applies to everything. I'm not the best artist, but I can sketch okay. I'm not the best pianist, but I can play some music. The best artist trains her hands and mind to put the correct brush strokes on the canvas. The best pianist practices hours every day to improve her skills. I don't do either of those things, so why should I expect myself to be the best at them? I think I just like disappointing myself. I set myself up for failure and then I hate myself for failing. I have unreasonable expectations about who I am or should be.
Sometimes I feel like nothing I know about myself or about my life is true or is going to last. I've changed so much in the last 5 years that nothing feels permanent. I guess it really isn't permanent, but it's hard to get used to that. I look around and I don't have many friends here at college. It's hard for me to make friends in the first place, but then I start to think about the pointlessness of it. If I made friends now, it's not like they'll be my friends in another 5 years. We all will have moved away and spread out again. We'll get different jobs, we'll stop talking. I'm not naive, I know the routine. Maybe if I get married I'll invite some people to my wedding, but I wouldn't consider all those people my friends.
Fuck it all. I know I didn't wrap this up very well, but I need to have a good long therapy session with my pillow, cry it all out, and get some sleep.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and I really should find things to be thankful for.
Goodnight, internet. I hope you aren't as lonely as I am.
I know nobody will read this (at least not anyone I know). I know writing this won't make me physically any less lonely, but maybe it will psychologically fill some void in me. I just have to believe that the internet is a very big place and given the laws of probability, somebody, someday, somewhere, will probably stumble onto my blog (just as I've randomly stumbled upon other blogs), and maybe they'll read this and it'll echo something within them that I think we all feel from time to time - insignificance.
I'm not talking about the good kind of insignificance that you feel when you gaze up at the beautiful stars and realize how big and wondrous the universe is. I'm talking about the kind of insignificance that starts as a creepy little voice in the back of your mind that tells you nobody will miss you if you kill yourself. That is the kind of insignificant feeling that consumes me now and again. I know the little voice is lying. Even though I lack a lot of friends, I still have family, and enough people that I know and who like me reasonably well and would miss me if I die.
I'm not talking about wanting to kill myself. I don't want to do that (not right now anyway). I don't advocate suicide EVER. If you've Googled suicide and come to my page, I can only hope that you realize these feelings of emptiness and void will pass you by and the world will be right again. I can't tell you it will be easy or that it will happen soon, but staying here is the much better option if you're looking to be happy again. It's a very strange and irrational thought process that depression forces people into. All you or I want is to be happy and to feel loved and important, but somewhere along the way the pain twists that desire into the urge to stop existing altogether. It's wrong and your psyche is lying to you. Please don't listen to it.
Anyway, I just felt obligated to put that blurb in there just in case somebody stumbles onto here looking for guidance (not that I'm a great resource).
How serious is life? This is a question I'm faced with often. On the one hand, it's just life, and it's been around forever and we're all just little blips on a gigantic timeline (see insignificant). On the other, life ends in death and it is the most serious and real thing that any of us will ever encounter. Should we face life like the insignificant and fleeting thing that it is, or should we reconcile with how real and serious it is for each one of us?
Terrible things happen all the time, but I've heard some people tell me that the only way to get through it all is to keep lighthearted and keep laughing. Maybe they're right. Maybe dwelling on the darkness and shame of it all is too much for any soul to bear and maybe that's why I find myself struggling to crawl out of the dark abyss and back into the daily motions that keep me from completely going insane.
Wonderful things happen too, but for some reason I can't shake the feeling that there aren't enough wonderful things to justify the level of disgust I have for the crimes of humanity. Shouldn't all those things that we take for granted (butterfly wings, sunshine, rainbows, etc.) be the norm? Why shouldn't we take those for granted? Am I just too greedy that I want it to be nice all the time, and therefore, when it's nice I kind of expect it to be that way. I mean, I'm happy about nice things, for sure, but they don't demand my attention. They shouldn't demand my attention; I don't have to do anything about them, or worry about them, or try to fix them. Terrible things, however, need to be fixed, and so they draw our focus.
Focus. This is something I think I've lost in my life recently. I'm more than halfway through college with a double major in two subjects that I don't really care much about (accounting and finance, if you must know). I don't regret my majors; they're both very practical business majors and will serve me well in getting a job that pays enough. I just don't have any passion in my life anymore. Then again, it's been so long that I can't remember a time when I had passion for anything. Maybe it's just an illusion. Maybe I'm just not a passionate person by nature and I need to reconcile with that.
I'm so alone and so lost. I don't know where I'm going and I don't know who's going to be there when I arrive. I don't really have goals for my life beyond finishing up my two degrees and passing a myriad of certification exams (CMA, CPA, et al.) to get further credentials in my fields. I'm terrified of not making it, of being a big fuck up. I don't want to be a failure. I don't want to be the girl that "had so much potential" and then never amounted to anything. It's frustrating because I'm not motivated by a desire to achieve or succeed, but instead I'm motivated by the fear of failing, of not being good enough. For what? I don't know. I don't know who I'm so terrified of disappointing. Myself?
I'm not a competitive person. I don't like to compete or race against others. I don't like to try very hard for things because I feel like I lose more when I try than if I can just shrug and say to myself, "well I'm not surprised by that outcome because I really didn't put in much effort." I want to be the best, and I get upset when I'm not automatically the best at something. It makes no sense! Why do I have to be the best when I don't even want to compete or put in effort? I can't possibly be naturally good at everything. Nobody has that much raw talent, and that's okay. I shouldn't punish myself for not being an Olympic gymnast. I just wasn't cut out for that and I didn't have the same opportunities. Not that I want to be an Olympic gymnast, I was just using that as an extreme example, but it applies to everything. I'm not the best artist, but I can sketch okay. I'm not the best pianist, but I can play some music. The best artist trains her hands and mind to put the correct brush strokes on the canvas. The best pianist practices hours every day to improve her skills. I don't do either of those things, so why should I expect myself to be the best at them? I think I just like disappointing myself. I set myself up for failure and then I hate myself for failing. I have unreasonable expectations about who I am or should be.
Sometimes I feel like nothing I know about myself or about my life is true or is going to last. I've changed so much in the last 5 years that nothing feels permanent. I guess it really isn't permanent, but it's hard to get used to that. I look around and I don't have many friends here at college. It's hard for me to make friends in the first place, but then I start to think about the pointlessness of it. If I made friends now, it's not like they'll be my friends in another 5 years. We all will have moved away and spread out again. We'll get different jobs, we'll stop talking. I'm not naive, I know the routine. Maybe if I get married I'll invite some people to my wedding, but I wouldn't consider all those people my friends.
Fuck it all. I know I didn't wrap this up very well, but I need to have a good long therapy session with my pillow, cry it all out, and get some sleep.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and I really should find things to be thankful for.
Goodnight, internet. I hope you aren't as lonely as I am.
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