(no subject)
OKAY.
After I write this I am going to get a shower in the hottest water imaginable.
So there is something about me that VERY VERY VERY few people know. No, I'm pretty sure like maybe one or two people know about this. Probably less than that.
But...I fucking hate my birthday. I hate it so so so so sososososoossooso much. It's like this looming, yearly reminder that I should have done more with my life during that year. I should have grown up. I should have gotten a grown-up job. I should have learned a few lessons and I should have become more mature. But I never ever feel like I've accomplished any of those things, and it always starts to kick in right before/on my birthday. My birthday constantly sends me into a fit of depression and moodiness that I can't possibly understand.
It all just means that I'm a year closer to dying and I'm still sitting here, wasting my completely valuable time doing things that don't make me happy or feel accomplished. I deny myself of going after my dreams because I feel safer just going along with things and letting people make my decisions for me.
Do I want to still be at Harper? No. Do I want to still be living at home? No. Do I want to spend my life lacking purpose and inspiration? Of course not.
But I do. It doesn't matter that I think that school is a joke, and that I'm too old to be living with my mom, and that my life depresses the hell out of me.
One day, though, I swear to God, I'm going to leave. And it won't be like Texas, where I leave and immediately plan on coming back. Once I'm gone, I'm going to be gone for good. This town/city/state is suffocating me. I feel like one of those fish that only grow when you put it in a bigger fish tank. And I feel stuck and stunted and bored to tears of swimming in circles.
End of rant.
After I write this I am going to get a shower in the hottest water imaginable.
So there is something about me that VERY VERY VERY few people know. No, I'm pretty sure like maybe one or two people know about this. Probably less than that.
But...I fucking hate my birthday. I hate it so so so so sososososoossooso much. It's like this looming, yearly reminder that I should have done more with my life during that year. I should have grown up. I should have gotten a grown-up job. I should have learned a few lessons and I should have become more mature. But I never ever feel like I've accomplished any of those things, and it always starts to kick in right before/on my birthday. My birthday constantly sends me into a fit of depression and moodiness that I can't possibly understand.
It all just means that I'm a year closer to dying and I'm still sitting here, wasting my completely valuable time doing things that don't make me happy or feel accomplished. I deny myself of going after my dreams because I feel safer just going along with things and letting people make my decisions for me.
Do I want to still be at Harper? No. Do I want to still be living at home? No. Do I want to spend my life lacking purpose and inspiration? Of course not.
But I do. It doesn't matter that I think that school is a joke, and that I'm too old to be living with my mom, and that my life depresses the hell out of me.
One day, though, I swear to God, I'm going to leave. And it won't be like Texas, where I leave and immediately plan on coming back. Once I'm gone, I'm going to be gone for good. This town/city/state is suffocating me. I feel like one of those fish that only grow when you put it in a bigger fish tank. And I feel stuck and stunted and bored to tears of swimming in circles.
End of rant.