i start out with the intention to write something, but am stopped by my own mind saying "get over yourself" and then i feel ashamed to even have a blog. like i'm so important that anyone would want to read about me. sometimes i know i can write beautiful things. other times, like now, like most of the time, the words are empty and ugly. everything i try to do right now feels contrived. however, i feel a weird obligation to write, as if i made some sort of promise to somebody that i would, and i am so sick of watching myself never follow through. i've only done anything halfway my whole life, giving up or losing my grip before anything comes of anything. i have never learned to push through the depression, the apathy, the chaos, the mood storms to create something complete. so many years of starts and stops, failures and flying colors, try trying again. it took me a decade to get my AA in philosophy. am so sick of myself, disgusted at my lifetime of failures.
that's all i have to say today.
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you're no failure. you're, well, just you.
ReplyDeletethe hard part (i notice for myself) is just living with this disease, that, while part of you, doesn't define you entirely. sorry things aren't so great. :/