(no subject)
I have neglected my LJ to extremes. I'm not going to apologize. I'm simply stating a fact.
This was the first truly shit day of 2011, and I should probably be grateful that it held off this long. It's really difficult to be grateful for a bad day, though. When all is said and done, a pile of shit is a pile of shit, even if it's dried and easy to clean.
It was one of those days where I felt rightly numb by the end of it. I think I'll just leave a convalescence of circumstances to blame. It's a little of my relationship, a little of myself, a little of everyone else, and just a tiny bit of my job.
When it comes right down to it, I think I'm just goddamn tired of chasing after things. I'm doing it constantly. I'm chasing after messages that are never returned, and it's just not worth it anymore. I can chase them until I'm out of breath, and it makes no difference either way; nothing changes. It makes every day feel like a fucking struggle. I'm sick of it. I'm done. If I'm not important enough, I need to stop trying to make myself so.
So that's it, I guess. It comes along with a certain amount of disappointment. I don't know how easily I'll be able to surmount that, but getting over temporary disappointment has to be easier than frustrating myself with this endless chase.
I'm done.
This was the first truly shit day of 2011, and I should probably be grateful that it held off this long. It's really difficult to be grateful for a bad day, though. When all is said and done, a pile of shit is a pile of shit, even if it's dried and easy to clean.
It was one of those days where I felt rightly numb by the end of it. I think I'll just leave a convalescence of circumstances to blame. It's a little of my relationship, a little of myself, a little of everyone else, and just a tiny bit of my job.
When it comes right down to it, I think I'm just goddamn tired of chasing after things. I'm doing it constantly. I'm chasing after messages that are never returned, and it's just not worth it anymore. I can chase them until I'm out of breath, and it makes no difference either way; nothing changes. It makes every day feel like a fucking struggle. I'm sick of it. I'm done. If I'm not important enough, I need to stop trying to make myself so.
So that's it, I guess. It comes along with a certain amount of disappointment. I don't know how easily I'll be able to surmount that, but getting over temporary disappointment has to be easier than frustrating myself with this endless chase.
I'm done.