Saturday, July 11, 2009

Cycles and things

Wow, so I need to fix my sleep schedule for sure. Went to bed at... some time around 7pm and now I am up, seemingly for the 'day' which isn't really that long if it ends at 7 again. I went to Clint's house day before yesterday as I was close by and needing answers. He knew that he wasn't insured, no surprise there, and his license has already been suspended. Which is kind of even more confusing as to why they are going to suspend mine, but I don't think there's anything we can do about that. I told him what he needed to do to make sure that it didn't happen, and now I'm just giving him a few days to do so before broaching the subject again.

Everything has been slipping by with little to no division of time and space. Days roll into one another. With nothing to do, there's no definition. Night and Day are relative terms and I have no need for either. I count down the days until Chop Chop night (18 now), because it's the only regularity in my life. I need to make a schedule that I can stick to. Maybe do some working out with regularity and get in shape – I have nothing better to do. I've been sleeping more and more hours per day, drifting off out of boredom or pure exhaustion. I'm pretty sure that depression is in full force again.

I feel constantly tired, weak, and apathetic. I cannot feel anything, except, I found out, anger. With this hole in my body sucking the world into it without caring, without giving anything back – it's kind of scary. It's not like this is the first time I've felt this way, and I know that with time it will more than likely come to pass. It is very hard to go through day to day though. Every face I display I feel is riddled with holes, gaps that anyone can see through. I asked John to read my writings so that maybe he can understand, but he hasn't yet.

These things are hard to quantify and label as is, but orally, things are much worse. I am confined to happy, sad, good, bad; and there doesn't seem to be any room for gray areas, especially with John. He is either on or off, angry or calm, sweet or bitter. There isn't really any room for negotiation with someone who views the world this way. He once told me, love is love it's either there or it's not. He simply can't understand the way that I feel, then. He doesn't comprehend that I've loved people romantically before, but that the love I feel for him is deeper and more complete. For him, every love is just that... You know, I don't even know if I buy that explanation from him... Maybe it's just him not wanting to hurt me because I'm not the person he's felt the strongest about. I don't know.

That seems to be the theme of late. What do you want to do with your life? I don't know. What are you good at? I don't know. What does tomorrow hold, or better yet, today? I. Don't. Know.

I know that I am going to continue my education if I can. I know that I want to be a wife and a mother above anything else. I know that in order to make those dreams a reality I will need to forge a real career and that requires degrees. I know that an Associates Degree doesn't mean anything in this day and age, and that a Bachelor's barely means anything anymore either. Graduate programs, Masters, Doctorates – these are what set you apart from the every other slipping, sweaty mortal pulsating through existence.

With what I do know and what I don't seeming contradictory and confusing, well... here I am. I will probably get fucked over by Clint. I will probably fail at getting retribution. I will probably ruin my relationships with the people that I care about. I will probably fail at life just like so many millions working dead end jobs here and there to pay the rent. Sadly, this failure simply means conforming. I've failed to do so this far. I should already have a kid, be addicted to some substance or another and living in utter squalor. Those are the statistics, right? Child of abuse and teenage mothering actually succeeding to do something other than follow in her mother's footsteps? It's damn near unheard of, even with just the teenage mother and an otherwise middle class upbringing full of love and such.

Perhaps the cycle can be broken. The cycle of mental illness, abuse, neglect, unplanned pregnancies, and hate which riddle my family and America at large. Perhaps. At the moment things are looking down, so pessimistic views are nearly all I can see. I suppose, that things might all work out. Things might turn around, I might get a leg up. I've got a roof over my head, food to eat, and someone that loves me. It can't be too bad. I just wish that I could... truly feel.

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