I am struggling and I don’t know what to do. I am pissing myself off with my inability to grab things head on and deal with it. To me, my struggling is a weakness I abhor.
I want to reach out to someone and tell them that I cannot cope, but I don’t know who to turn to. I don’t want platitudes, meaningful quotes written in script on a sunset background. I don’t want to hear that everything will be ok, everything happens for a reason, these things make us stronger. I am tired of having to be strong, of swimming against a never ending tide that washes away the sand from under my feet, leaving me constantly unstable.
All I want to care about right now, is meeting my basic survival needs, but in order to do so I have to make myself ill working a job, in order to earn enough money to almost meet my survival needs. The rich care about money, I do not. If I could meet my needs without it, I would. My soul is trapped in an ever tightening cage, I feel crushed and in pain, I want to neither exist nor not exist. I just want to be able to breathe.
I have always had ambitions, not ones important to anyone else, but ones for myself, becoming self sufficient, self employed, free from the chains of capitalism to whatever degree I can manage. But now even these thoughts give me no pleasure.
Some people may wish to be at home to rest and recharge from these things, but I hate my home. It is a prison, a symbol of everything in my life I want to get away from, the reason I need to earn so much money, and for what? Four walls I don’t wish to be inside. A glorified shed for belongings I have no time or desire to touch. It is the guarantee that for the next month I shall have a roof over my head. But the price, is wishing I didn’t.
I find myself floating from friend to friend, telephone conversations about nothing, attempts at socialising face to face, to take my mind off it, to fill the hole of loneliness, but this only serves to make me feel isolated even further. But if I reject these interactions I fear I will lose my brain completely into a pit of nothingness.
To think of the future before, gave me hope. I had a passion, something in my present to fight against, and the idea that in the future would lie my freedom. Now I do not know what the future holds, I am struggling to see a way out, so all that fills the gap is the day to day strangulation of my being, stretching out to eternity in front of me. It may be easy enough to say, “do not think of the future, concentrate on the present,” but if I have nothing to look forward to and to live towards, what is the point in living today. Every now and then, if I find myself in a lighter mood, I daydream of a potential future, one that I would like to have very much, but the path there seems so obstructed that what should be a pleasant daydream leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I simply wish to be able to breathe again. This isolation, much my own doing, is not good for me, but I don’t feel able to connect with anyone, or know where to start, as I don’t want to drag anyone into this pathetic fuckery. But if you feel like someone has your back, you can tackle anything that is thrown at you, but if you don’t feel like you have that, then everything can so easily overwhelm you and make you feel like you are breaking.
I am proud of myself for not resorting to drinking through it at least. Every cloud…..