06.23.2004 :: 12:35 a.m.
goddamn these idle hands
Man, this diary has been pretty dead lately. There's been a decline in both frequency of updates and entry content, so now it's just this heaping pile of mediocrity. And I throw a few new clumps of unexciting, manure-like writing on every few days, mostly because I feel like I should. I remember when I used to really like writing here. I used to actually have things to say. It seems like I never do anymore, and even when I do, I don't feel like writing about them. So this mountain of boring, unenthusiastic dreck just getting bigger and bigger, looming high enough to block out the sun. Maybe soon it'll topple over and suffocate everything.
That would be kind of interesting.
Gah. My coat hangs over the back of my incredibly uncomfortable computer chair, and the zipper/collar is poking me in the back. So it's even more uncomfortable, amazingly enough. And my wrist hurts again, and my ankle hurts, and I kept getting these weird pains in the left side of my stomach earlier. And my teeth have been sporadically hurting - like really hurting - whenever I eat something, and the swollen lymph node/possible tumor has been acting up again. I have no energy, even though I get plenty of sleep. Too much, probably. I've been going to bed later, sleeping too long... I feel like crap. I feel like I'm falling apart.
Not really just on the outside, either. I mean, my human husk does seem to be experiencing some difficulties, but I just feel... stagnant, I guess. Stuck. I can't get excited about anything anymore. Nothing seems like any fun. Nothing even seems worth the effort. I can't make myself do anything - go out and look for a job, or read, or brush up on my drawing skills, which have severely declined due to lack of use. There's just this hollow, this emptiness... like my internal flame has been doused and now it's all just dark, and silent, and dead. I just can' get into anything. Anything. Even sex. I mean, god, I'm 21 years old. Adam and I should be having sex all over the place. And while I'm not exactly a raging nympho, I'm usually fairly gung-ho. Well, I recall being fairly gung-ho anyway. Anymore I just... am not. And I feel really bad about it, because I don't want Adam thinking it's about him. It's not. It's totally my deal, my issue, my whatever. My dysfunction. I don't even know what it is, but it's all mine. As most of my problems are.
GOD. What the hell is wrong with me? I have a decent life. Okay, my parents split. My mom is never home, and when she is we hardly speak. My dad is deeply depressed over it, and I'm supposed to be moral support, but I just don't know how to be. And okay, my cat died. I still cry whenever I think about him. And my future is in the hands of a loan company. There's all kinds of uncertainty and fear going on. And I'm not exactly Little Miss I Love Myself, but overall my life is not a shambles. I've got a house to live in. A car. I'm not starving, or abused, or neglected. Not physically, anyway. I've got a fantastic boyfriend who I love with all my heart, and good (if few) friends. I've got no major health issues. I'm leading a fairly normal, and by all means fairly privileged, life - so what the hell? Why can't I be happy? I should be happy. Or maybe that's not even it, because I am happy sometimes. Why do I feel so detached? So hopeless? Like living is hardly worth the effort?
Don't call the men in white suits. I'm not suicidal or anything. I'm just... searching. Answers are kind of elusive that way.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005