I’ve spiraled down into nothingness. Yesterday, I was attempting to rationalize what I’ve been trying to do, but by the end of the day the truth of it emerged, that whole other side of this that I have been desperately trying to ignore hit me with full force.
What do I think I am doing? Do I really believe this is going to work?
I’ve been on edge, flinching every time the phone rings. It doesn’t help that I’ve been in an almost manic state, where my mind won’t calm down. I don’t know what’s causing it, perhaps stress or too much exercise, but whatever it is, it makes me feel like no amount of sleep will cure it. It seems even physical exhaustion doesn’t help—and I’ve tried.
I’m going to the Human Society this coming week, to go to the volunteer orientation. The two interviews I had a couple of days ago (I’ve had three in all), forced me to postpone doing the volunteer thing sooner, as they ran over. I went in at 1:00,well ahead of time, but there were so many people I wasn’t able to leave until 3:00. This child was throwing herself across the rug and screaming in tantrum every few minutes. There were so many people there, all crowded into this tiny room. The woman behind the desk kept watching me, and after a good half an hour finally approached me, maybe because I was one of a handful of people that wasn’t wearing cut-off shorts and flip flops. She went and sorted through the papers to see when my turn was coming up, since I had been “standing there so long”.
Even if I do get accepted…fuck. I don’t want it. What am I going to do in a fast food restaurant all day flipping burgers? I will go mad. I can hardly walk into a store and ask for something off a shelf, let alone deal with people for hours on end. Not only customers at wherever I’m working, but the employees who work there. The last thing I want is to get to know people and be forced to deal with them, daily.
I can’t exist here, that is the simple truth. Whatever reserve I’m on now is only going to end. Then I’m going to be left behind by it, crippled by anxiety and completely alone with no barriers to protect me. The apathy will flee for awhile, and I won’t know what to do. But I won’t be able to stay here in this room until the weakness passes, until the numbness comes back. It will be school all over again, and I don’t want to face that after it took so much effort to stop going in the first place. I don’t want to wake up and expect to hate myself for not doing something about that the night before. I can still recall those times where it was so strong I believed that I was capable, that it was in me to go through with it.
I looked back, found the exact day. And what a fucking special day it was. I made a choice, and I regret it now. I hate myself for making it. I chose quitting school or death, so I quit. But I still remember that day, the feeling of it. A recklessness beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s sick, but I want that back. I want that loss of sanity to come back to me, to take over, because in this state of mind I’m in now, I’m too weak to do it. The doubts are shouting back at me. The guilt is heavily on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the debts I owe and must someday pay, somehow.
I owe my parents things, even though I never asked to be put here. I guess I should have never even thought that the world might be fair on that count. It angers me that their feelings have to be my responsibility, that they hold me back. Because I know my father will shake his head and curse my name to his grave, and my mother will sink into a hole she will probably never crawl out of. I would destroy their lives for myself. I would abandon them, like they both did me once.
Technically, I still have my one mistake to make, but I would lose what little respect they have for me. What little respect anyone has for me. I fought for that—I don’t know why, but I did. I fought to be the impervious wall, nothing but an imitation of humanity that bristles when others cry and snarls when they dare venture close. Why should it matter what I mean? I mean so little now as it is. But it makes me hesitate, so it must be something to me. Such a waste, all that time I spent trying to make something out of me.
I’ll try to keep my head about all of this. I’ll endure for a few weeks, watch, wait. It doesn’t matter. The universe will either accept my awkward attempts at trying to make a life for myself, or it will do what it usually does and spit in my face and laugh at me. I can decide where to go after something happens.