Sometimes you take a break from all the chaos and think how on earth you’ve reached a place in your life that is completely devoid of anything of substance. I remind myself (because I am at heart a logical person) that I have family and friends that love me but I always fall back on feeling that I need more. I am guessing this is completely normal and I am not in a special position and should under no circumstance feel like a victim but I do, unfortunately. I wallow in a kind of self-pity that envelopes me, buries me when I am consuming alcohol and fills me with impending dread when I am not.
In situations that do not involve any form of toxic substance, this particular bit of rogue, all encompassing emotion takes hold of me in the strangest of places: at work when I am typing out the nth email of the day, sitting with my mother and friends at Subway, going up to receive my certificate at my Commencement ceremony etc. I don’t know why it always feels like I’ve been hit by an anvil (luminary of comic iconography) because I would rather not feel like breaking out into tears wherever I go. I think if I was really meant to be unhappy, then a constant sense of unhappiness would be sufficient and quite welcome, thank you very much.
What is the point of crying out for help when you know that you can’t be helped/saved? We need to cry out once in a while because it wipes you a clean slate but then again, it all gets dirty again pretty quickly.
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