A little bit of citrus (don't let the fear eat you alive little darling)
When I drink my problems become illuminated.
And then those things, all of them, weighing on my mind, become so bright that it’s blinding. And I lose track of focus.
I have goals, but baby steps is what it’s going to take to get to them because nothing I want to accomplish will be easy, or ever has been.
I’m so good at leaving. It’s so tempting. To get the fuck away and just not talk, think, or do anything.
I’m an escapist and this world is so fucking heavy. I try so much to be happy. Happiness is subjective, fleeting at best. And I’m so accustomed to disappointment that it’s just what I expect. It’s a glitch programmed into my upbringing, my subconscious.
The happiest times I can remember are bittersweet. Those moments when I felt nothing could touch me or alter my sweet sunkissed idealism.
Well Idealism ain’t worth the shit we flush down the toilet. It’s also a lot easier said than done to be ‘realistic’ or even just rational. So what? should I ignore my emotional upset, with the possibility of becoming the coldest person?
Or should I just own up to the feelings of confused self worth and lack of accomplishment? Of the fact that fear is ingrained within my very core? Of the fact that I fight it every day and I’m still scared of what is to come, or what isn’t? It’s been my habit to drop anything if I feel like it won’t be worth it. But now, I don’t even know if my judgement has been sound. I know there are things I could have done much better. I’m not immune to error, I’m actually quite apt to it.
I just don’t know what to do with myself. Really. Except carry the weight of the decisions I’ve made thus far and hope to learn the best from them all.
There are so many things that I want. So many things that I’ve given up and sacrificed, for my sanity, for family, for whatever. It’s the one thing I’m truly skilled at, and it’s a fucking burden.
I don’t want to be that person who cowers at the IDEA that all my effort will be worth nothing, when it comes down to it. It’s better to try and fail than to never tried at all? I don’t want to live running, surviving. I want to be honest to my fucking core and weed out the shit that block the optimism. I just need a balance, and I used to think I was good at it.
I have been trying my best to discard all negative thoughts and I wish I didn’t have to work all of the time just to get fucking by man it’s a damn drag. So i’ll end this rampage of words with a high note.
I loved you. I love you. I’ll love you. And I’m willing to eat these words like a five course meal. I’m yelling in the mirror.
I know I need to quit these bad habits that feed me ill thoughts. I know I need to start walking toward the good parts with my anxiety as my armor, but not my compass. I know I need to shape up entirely or else risk being dissatisfied with the entirety that will become my future self.
Tomorrow is today and yesterday is gone, but still visits without calling. Put the phone on silent. Dance in the rain.