just waiting till the shine wears off
I'm feeling perfectly wretched today, and have been for a little while now. I hate myself when I get like this. Why can I keep myself happy sometimes and not others?
It isn't anything specific, really, I wish it were, as you can't treat a problem without knowing where it comes from. (Much like global warming, Palin, you dumb asshole.)
So...bad timing, maybe. The onset of autumn never does anything good for me. I've got Meg and Bri's wedding this weekend and I get to dress up and have my hair done and dance, so hopefully that'll pick me up.
I know it's hard to understand this feeling if you haven't felt it for yourself. Words are inadequate. It's like white noise blocking out rational thoughts, it's like...a bunch of rocks weighing down your sense of self. Self-loathing has a lot to do with it - and it's damned frustrating. Like a heavy coat that you hate but can't get the zipper to work so it's stuck on you. And you're in tears, you're so frustrated and desperate, and everybody you walk by is just disgusted by your histrionics, and by your laziness for not just taking the damn thing off. Or maybe they're not, but, it sure as hell feels that way at the time.
I'm writing like I'm IN it, but I'm not in it, not yet...just on my way to it. I need a lifeline.
It isn't anything specific, really, I wish it were, as you can't treat a problem without knowing where it comes from. (Much like global warming, Palin, you dumb asshole.)
So...bad timing, maybe. The onset of autumn never does anything good for me. I've got Meg and Bri's wedding this weekend and I get to dress up and have my hair done and dance, so hopefully that'll pick me up.
I know it's hard to understand this feeling if you haven't felt it for yourself. Words are inadequate. It's like white noise blocking out rational thoughts, it's like...a bunch of rocks weighing down your sense of self. Self-loathing has a lot to do with it - and it's damned frustrating. Like a heavy coat that you hate but can't get the zipper to work so it's stuck on you. And you're in tears, you're so frustrated and desperate, and everybody you walk by is just disgusted by your histrionics, and by your laziness for not just taking the damn thing off. Or maybe they're not, but, it sure as hell feels that way at the time.
I'm writing like I'm IN it, but I'm not in it, not yet...just on my way to it. I need a lifeline.