teenage colloquialism
When the divine Clockmaker wound my gears, he did a real bang-up job of fine-tuning me. It rankles me that I am stuck in such confounding circles, balancing an acute self-awareness that is punished by my lack of motivation. I suppose the ability to provide on-the-spot diagnoses of your own behavior and understand what you need to do to change it, doesn't always translate into the steps necessary to achieve personal evolution.
I know that I am not bad, and so I continue to search for the means to improve. I know that I can do better. I know that I always say I will do better. I wonder what it really takes for a person to take themselves seriously? Because - and this is just between you and I - my perception of myself is a parody of me. My inability to be resolute stems from the damnable notion that I am not myself. I hope this doesn't turn into a full-blown journey of discovery, metamorphosing instead into a bandwagon bildungsroman that leaves the reader underwhelmed, but with a mild, guilt-ridden sense of budding hope.
It's all pretty fascinating stuff.
I've all but barricaded myself in - unfortunately, I began to do so under the wrong influences. Recently, I've begun consenting to certain manners I am no longer comfortable with. As a result, I am cultivating distance and forming boundaries. For myself, first. Then for...
Well, you'll see. I'm not sure if this is some glorified deus ex machina complex, but I feel like the improbable zenith of my psychological recovery shall soon be actualized. Easy answers rarely manifest themselves in my day-to-day practice of subsistence (I am convinced I am not currently living, but I breathe and therefore persist), making this revolution all the more likely.
I embrace the varied forms of rejection as they have recently and frequently become apparent - personally, professionally. Mentally. Emotionally. I have to create tangible evidence of my own instability, in order to reign in the abuse and dislodge it from the inside of my mouth and the crevices in my gut. There are many takes on the notion of destruction-born creation; rather than paraphrase them ineloquently, I am content to inform you that I will soon be completely unraveled.
Fear not, for I am nothing if not a determined builder, and a skilled tradeswoman.
I know that I am not bad, and so I continue to search for the means to improve. I know that I can do better. I know that I always say I will do better. I wonder what it really takes for a person to take themselves seriously? Because - and this is just between you and I - my perception of myself is a parody of me. My inability to be resolute stems from the damnable notion that I am not myself. I hope this doesn't turn into a full-blown journey of discovery, metamorphosing instead into a bandwagon bildungsroman that leaves the reader underwhelmed, but with a mild, guilt-ridden sense of budding hope.
It's all pretty fascinating stuff.
I've all but barricaded myself in - unfortunately, I began to do so under the wrong influences. Recently, I've begun consenting to certain manners I am no longer comfortable with. As a result, I am cultivating distance and forming boundaries. For myself, first. Then for...
Well, you'll see. I'm not sure if this is some glorified deus ex machina complex, but I feel like the improbable zenith of my psychological recovery shall soon be actualized. Easy answers rarely manifest themselves in my day-to-day practice of subsistence (I am convinced I am not currently living, but I breathe and therefore persist), making this revolution all the more likely.
I embrace the varied forms of rejection as they have recently and frequently become apparent - personally, professionally. Mentally. Emotionally. I have to create tangible evidence of my own instability, in order to reign in the abuse and dislodge it from the inside of my mouth and the crevices in my gut. There are many takes on the notion of destruction-born creation; rather than paraphrase them ineloquently, I am content to inform you that I will soon be completely unraveled.
Fear not, for I am nothing if not a determined builder, and a skilled tradeswoman.