A letter I wrote to somebody that needed repeating.
CPR, please
Sometimes I'm not so sure what to think about myself. You're correct in saying I talk a lot of shit; that I never finish anything I start. I know this about myself and it gets to me, too. Maybe it's why I hated Jill so much. She's the same way and I guess I expect other people to do what I can't. I dream too much. I dream so much that when it comes to putting those dreams in motion, I lack the motivation to do so. It's so much nicer to dream. It's safer to dream. I'm good at motivating and inspiring other people, however I'm not so good at doing the same for myself. I'm so fucking miserable and it's all my fault. We all have choices in how we are to deal with situations and with our lives and lately I have chosen to remain miserable. Procrastination. Procrastination. Procrastination. Maybe this isn't so much of a letter to you as it is to myself. Fuck. I think I just may have lost my mind. Have you ever felt like this? Sometimes I feel like I'm slowly having the life sucked out of me until I'm reduced to nothing more than living, breathing mush. That's actually a fairly good description. I feel like mush. I'm beyond needing inspiration. I need resuscitation. I don't know how to end this dreadful letter, to I'm just going to end it with "bleh".
-Mush
Ps) Don't read too much into this.
Sometimes I'm not so sure what to think about myself. You're correct in saying I talk a lot of shit; that I never finish anything I start. I know this about myself and it gets to me, too. Maybe it's why I hated Jill so much. She's the same way and I guess I expect other people to do what I can't. I dream too much. I dream so much that when it comes to putting those dreams in motion, I lack the motivation to do so. It's so much nicer to dream. It's safer to dream. I'm good at motivating and inspiring other people, however I'm not so good at doing the same for myself. I'm so fucking miserable and it's all my fault. We all have choices in how we are to deal with situations and with our lives and lately I have chosen to remain miserable. Procrastination. Procrastination. Procrastination. Maybe this isn't so much of a letter to you as it is to myself. Fuck. I think I just may have lost my mind. Have you ever felt like this? Sometimes I feel like I'm slowly having the life sucked out of me until I'm reduced to nothing more than living, breathing mush. That's actually a fairly good description. I feel like mush. I'm beyond needing inspiration. I need resuscitation. I don't know how to end this dreadful letter, to I'm just going to end it with "bleh".
-Mush
Ps) Don't read too much into this.