What happens when you get older? Apparently things get better or so they say. I’ve been thinking about my age a lot recently, I’m at a cross roads in life. I’m supposed to know better by now but frankly I don’t. I’m stuck between not wanting to feel anything ever again and wanting to experience every excruciating and wonderful thing about life.
I just found a song called Buy Your Own Flowers by Maria Isabel. She stars the song by saying:
“What happens when you get older? You buy yourself your own flowers. Separate love and lover. Found me a new super power. Now I’m a little bit older swear to God I know better. All I wanted was to fall in love with somebody’s son, didn’t know any better.”
Today was long and I had a therapy session. We talked about nothing, I think I was avoiding talking about big important things by saying nothing at all. I still haven’t admitted to her that I am in fact heart broken. I think she knows but I can’t humiliate myself like that, even though we’ve discussed humiliating things before. Today I asked her if next session we can do some trauma work. She agreed. I’m really scared.
How am I supposed to finally speak about all the things I’ve been hiding? How do I look at all the horrors head on? There’s so much unworthiness clouding my every move and thought. Maybe I’m blowing it all up in my head, maybe I don’t get to be upset. Sometimes I ask myself, is what happened to you even a big deal? I’m so embarrassed by it. I’m so sure I’ll never be anything. I’m so sure no one will be able to love me. And maybe it isn’t true and maybe I bring failure upon myself by not giving it my all. But I’m just so sure.
I just wish someone would say to me: It wasn’t your fault. You can cry about it. It was a big deal.
I’m so confused about being alive. I feel like I can’t really stand it and that no one hears me when I ask for help. I know it’s not the case but it just feels that way. The thing is, thinking about living for even more time than I have is so awful. I think about aging even more, waking up over and over and over, making a million decisions and never doing anything significant for my entire life. Sometimes it’s the little things. I have to choose what to eat for breakfast and lunch and dinner until I die. Sometimes I jut want to give up and do nothing at all, and honestly I do.
I keep thinking about writing a book. I want to be an author but I don’t think I’m good enough, honestly I don’t really know how to write. There’s stuff I could do I’m sure but I don’t know what that is. Maybe buy a course or something but spending money on my dreams feels ridiculous. What am I investing in myself for?
Or I could be an artist and paint all day and night. But then I’d have to be known and create and be criticized for the things I choose to make and I don’t have the strength for that. Plus, in the world we live in I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea about how to get my work out there. Maybe once I get a job I can freelance on the side for fun and see if maybe I can actually make something out of my writing or illustration or painting.
I want to find a career that I find interesting and that I’m OK with doing for many years. In my mind I’m chasing jobs for money but none of them are the things I want to do. Honestly, I really think that I want to be art teacher. Teach kids arts and crafts. Or maybe even adults. But I definitely don’t have the skills for that. Maybe I’m too hard on myself.
I just feel old and hollowed out and like I’ve got nothing left to give. I know I haven’t even started yet but it feels like my life is over. There are people out there younger and smarter and more talented than me. But then again it could be that it doesn’t matter as much as I think it does. There’s always been better people out there. But there’s room for a lot of bullshit on this Earth.
I’m in love but he doesn’t love me back. That shit runs through my head like some sort of torture device. Isn’t it so stupid? I don’t think I know what love is. It can’t be that shit it just can’t be. God his love was so subpar why can’t I get over it. Actually I know. I feed off scraps like a dog. One of these days someone is going to love me for real. I don’t know if I should give up on life or not.
In summary I have no direction in life. I’m heartbroken without understanding love in the first place. I’m carrying decade old trauma. I’ve lost God. I see nothing in the future to be happy about. I want to give up more than I want to go on. At least tonight anyway. In essence, I have nothing.
I have a stomach ache and this is the most boring entry I’ve ever written.
I wish I was dead. Or at least not alive. Being a person is so boring and useless. Sentience is wasted on me.