"You must say goodbye to me."
I've been making it a priority to avoid this God damn device. I feel that majority of the things typed in here are empty words, sometimes even empty promises, but usually just rehashing of things that most don't care about/diatribes of me bitching.
Anxiety and stress has set in recently. Most who know me know that anxiety and stress do not have any place in my life, but randomly they do set foot into my world. I've barely been sleeping, eating, making good decisions, or putting proper thoughts together; my dreams disturb me, I've pushed some people out of my life, I look like shit most of the time, and sleep seems like the best idea all of the time; sex I could be having I don't want and sex I want to be having isn't in the cards, I'm afraid to express how I truly feel about others, I want what I can't have, and I really wish I could just cry about it all.
I'm home now, the home where I grew up. These things which are bothering me are quickly floating away. All that matters is I can finally sleep.
In the last few months I've lied a lot. Some of these lies have just been for fun or simple white lies, but some have been horrible lies that lower my worth as a person. Some days I honestly want to go to church and confess my sins, but that just seems like a cop-out to me; just seems like an excuse to make me feel better so I can forget about them for awhile, putting me on the same path to commit them again.
I feel like I'm coming to this point in my life where I'm telling the same God damn stories over and over again, just no one has the courage to tell me they've "already heard that one," because that's all I got to hold on to. If it's not that, it just seems like I'm living these same stories again and again, except they'll never be as good as the first time. It's not deja vu, it's redundancy.
I've just been realizing that I will put great effort into a lot of aspects in my life, tending to them the best I can, but when I reach the end of the line, well, I give up. The problem is I don't care.
I need to start caring.
Anxiety and stress has set in recently. Most who know me know that anxiety and stress do not have any place in my life, but randomly they do set foot into my world. I've barely been sleeping, eating, making good decisions, or putting proper thoughts together; my dreams disturb me, I've pushed some people out of my life, I look like shit most of the time, and sleep seems like the best idea all of the time; sex I could be having I don't want and sex I want to be having isn't in the cards, I'm afraid to express how I truly feel about others, I want what I can't have, and I really wish I could just cry about it all.
I'm home now, the home where I grew up. These things which are bothering me are quickly floating away. All that matters is I can finally sleep.
In the last few months I've lied a lot. Some of these lies have just been for fun or simple white lies, but some have been horrible lies that lower my worth as a person. Some days I honestly want to go to church and confess my sins, but that just seems like a cop-out to me; just seems like an excuse to make me feel better so I can forget about them for awhile, putting me on the same path to commit them again.
I feel like I'm coming to this point in my life where I'm telling the same God damn stories over and over again, just no one has the courage to tell me they've "already heard that one," because that's all I got to hold on to. If it's not that, it just seems like I'm living these same stories again and again, except they'll never be as good as the first time. It's not deja vu, it's redundancy.
I've just been realizing that I will put great effort into a lot of aspects in my life, tending to them the best I can, but when I reach the end of the line, well, I give up. The problem is I don't care.
I need to start caring.