awful, awful.

I wish I were better at so many things.

Lately, that feeling has been pretty much confined to being a better person. I am having a hard time understanding why I've done truly horrible things-- I can't help but realize that due to my willfull participation in these stupid acts that I am probably the worst sort of person there is. The type that knows when they're wrong but pushes on anyway; the type without any character. The type that is more concerned with coming off as being good rather than truly being good. Being good is something in the heart, something that you simply are when no one else is around. And I am not good. I have good points, but I am not good, and this hurts me, and I hope I can be better but I feel like all of this poor character may prevent me from succeeding at anything, including improvement of that very character. Ugh. Sin is such a weight. Such a weight. It's hard to hear my parents over the phone try to be cheering-- "But you're a good person, you can turn things around." No, I want to say. You don't know. I'm awful.

I'm not going to kill myself or anything. But I feel like my existence is more detrimental than positive. Sometimes I feel like I've scrambled myself so much that all I've got ahead of me should fill me with dread. And yet. I've gotten this far. Maybe there's a reason. Maybe I am due to be carved into a better piece of work, maybe there's hope and a plan. God I hope so.

On a more shallow level, I wish I were better at writing. And dedication. I am sucking so hard at all of the things I want to do, writing especially. And also I am so hideously fat right now I can't stand to look at myself most of the time. I want to push so hard to change these things but this bipolar thing is not helping. And also... ugh. I'm awful.