Last Update
I'm...35 now. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. Anything and everything I do always feels so difficult. I feel something eating at me, but I don't know how to grab it and stop it. Sometimes I feel like I'm the one eating at myself. I lost my job for a year and got it back, but I'm fucking up so bad that I can see I'm about to lose it again. I spend most of my days sat in front of my computer asking myself why I can't force myself to work. I spend days sleeping, then I spend days staying up for way longer than I should. I feel paralyzed. I can't find a job. I can't find a place to live. I feel myself pulling away and snapping. I thought I was finally standing up for myself. Turns out I'm unravelling. I was right. She was right. I'm going to ruin everything and I'll have no one to blame but myself. I want to cry.
My partner's leaving. We're on a break, but I know what happens next. It's for the best. I love her, but she deserves so much better. Our relationship couldn't survive 10 years of long distance, and to be honest, no one can. She put up a good fight. She gave me a last chance by having me find us a place to live, in hopes that closing the distance fixes everything. I fucked up. I got inside my own head and started questioning whether I was worth the trouble. I'm not worth anything. I'm 35. I have issues. I have no savings, no worth, nothing. My personality is fickle at best and prickly at its worst. I don't know what to do with myself. I look in the mirror most days and see a different person staring back at me. I want to scream but I can't. Screaming is for people who are justifiably upset. I have no right to be upset. I chose this. I wish I could've done it different. I wish I asked for help. I wish I stopped being so scared. I wish I just took the first apartment I saw.
The worst
Why is it always the worst things that stick with us? The partner I had was good to me. Understanding. But I constantly focused on what she couldn't give. I wanted her time and attention. Time and attention is a premium in this economy. And yet I can't help but feel like these are things that cannot be helped. Had we lived together, time and attention would have been so easy to share. Some things you don't need to schedule or plan. We've been planning date nights and movie nights for years and it's felt like maintenance because it's so difficult to organize between two people living so far apart. I get frustrated that she's not looking at me, and I pull away because most of my days, I feel hurt, not by her, but by the kind of world we live in where your self worth is defined by how much value you can bring. Love is unfortunately transactional. And while there are people who are abundantly wealthy with love, there are people like me who are bottomless pits. I spend most of my days crying because of the kind of life I have to live where I feel like I have to be wearing a mask all the fucking time. I get tired, I sleep, I wake, only to decide to sleep some more. She gets worried that I'm not talking to her, that I'm pulling away. But how do I face her that I'm not who I promised I was. My partner leaving is inevitable. Heck I can see the signs with my friends. There's nothing wrong with living a normal life. But there's something wrong with not being able to be there. The worst thing you can do is make people feel like they don't matter. Me hiding away makes me absent from the important stuff. It makes my friends feel like they don't matter. But the thing is, I'm not entirely convinced that it's a bad thing that I don't matter.
I don't matter
I have a distinct memory from highschool where a friend said "I can't imagine living past 40. I'd rather kill myself than become an old man." It's a thought that flabbergasted me at the time because it seemed so absurd to hear from someone my age. But it stuck. Year after year, I thought about it. What a lifetime subscription to sleep would feel like. Nothing. No more pain, no more struggling. I keep having that dream where a giant rat walks up to my face and tries to bite me. I spend hours pushing it away, but it's strong, heavy. I can't breathe. I can't scream. I can't ask for help. I shouldn't ask for help. I don't deserve help. I'm tired. Maybe next time I'll just let it bite me.
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