Rant:
Sometimes I feel like my brain is playing a cruel joke on me. Maybe not my brain, but rather my mind.
Whenever something good happens, in terms of landing work that will pay me, I take too much of it on and say yes to everything I can, only to be stressed out. Which I can handle when I'm stressing about paying work.
But then I also almost immediatley suffer signs of depression.
I fear that this bout of success that just happend to land in my lap will never last, therefore I have to cram all the work I can get out of it into my schedule and it becomes a cycle of fear of it ending. Fear of failing.
No, not so much fear as the knowledge that this to will not last. It's rather a kind of eroding knowledge.
Sometimes it all just seem so pointless, worthless.
Sometimes I think of just laying down on the floor and never ever getting up again.
Of course it wont last, I couldn't stay passive for as long as forever, I'd get restless.
And that's sort of the curse.
I give up. But it's not in my disposition to give up, I don't know how it's done, at least not entirely. I give up, and then I get up again, and I hate it. I get up, hating my restless ass for not even being able to GIVE UP properly and drag myself along for a few more of all of these pointless days.
Whenever something good happens, in terms of landing work that will pay me, I take too much of it on and say yes to everything I can, only to be stressed out. Which I can handle when I'm stressing about paying work.
But then I also almost immediatley suffer signs of depression.
I fear that this bout of success that just happend to land in my lap will never last, therefore I have to cram all the work I can get out of it into my schedule and it becomes a cycle of fear of it ending. Fear of failing.
No, not so much fear as the knowledge that this to will not last. It's rather a kind of eroding knowledge.
Sometimes it all just seem so pointless, worthless.
Sometimes I think of just laying down on the floor and never ever getting up again.
Of course it wont last, I couldn't stay passive for as long as forever, I'd get restless.
And that's sort of the curse.
I give up. But it's not in my disposition to give up, I don't know how it's done, at least not entirely. I give up, and then I get up again, and I hate it. I get up, hating my restless ass for not even being able to GIVE UP properly and drag myself along for a few more of all of these pointless days.