yes. try harder.
i'll admit it; this week i've really crumbled. i don't know why i'm like this, there must be something inherently wrong in my genetic makeup-- even at the age of 13 I told my friends that I considered myself the culmination of my parents' flaws. SHall I list them?
Perfectionistic to the point that I fear commitment to any project,
terribly anxious to the point of being fearful and destructive if commitment threatens my anythinggoes routine,
indeed, anxious to the point that rather than merely quaking with anxiety about the worse case scenario i exceed the worse case scenario but not doing anything,
introverted in the sense that my general interactions with people are pleasant enough but reveal a self that bears little to no resemblance to the real me,
harshly judgmental and unforgiving of myself and extending that judgment to others,
far too indulgent of the previous trait to the point of intense self-hate,
emotionally wired-- though I have a long fuse my emotions are nevertheless intense, deeply felt, and incapacitating occasionally,
depressed to the point of despondency, which often leads to poor student work or, uh, bad hygiene at times,
my unique ability to overthink things in a circular fashion, even questioning my own motives within motives within motives....,
chronic wanderlust and dissatisfaction (fear of commitment and desire for it??), which, ironically, i somehow choose to satisfy by wasting my money and time on doing pedestrian things, lurking in my cave, and buying/eating massive amounts of junk food or drinking,
my immediate rejection of and flight from anyone i perceive to be attractive,
a dreamer's mentality, revolving around creative situations or ideas about my future,
immense attachment to those i do care for, to the point that i depend upon them in order to be defined,
my strange need to be defined in general by what i like, listen to, read, watch, wear, own, and surround myself with,
profound loneliness. usually self-imposed.
and right now i'm feeling the weight of every single one of the above. how tiresome.
BUT! we press on!
the other night i was bemoaning my existence to my mother, who really doesn't know the extent of it, and she took this very patient tone with me and reminded me that these are the best years of my life. me: bullshit. i still think this. however, she went on to say that i have infinite possibilities. i really can be anything that i want to be, and try so many things, and know so many people, and accumulate so many stories.
my problem right now is that i dislike myself so much that i feel as though i'm not yet ready to even attempt any of that, and beginning the process of making me like myself takes such dedication. but my mother was right. maybe i'm not ready to attempt that, but i need to work towards it. i need a specific schedule, and goals, and checkmarks over elements that will remind me that i can be someone that i like, someone impressive, someone who'll have stories to tell and pictures to show and proof that i lived when i fade from existence someday.
and i guess that's what i need to focus on. I am going to write it on a big yellow piece of paper and hang it over my bed: POSSIBILITY. Actually, better make that plural.