I’m going to tire you with another story.
My day starts at 10:30 AM. I wake up feeling no energy for a person who just had sleep. Then I cook food out of the can. And I step into the shower, putting on some music that might perk up my mood. By 12 PM, I need to go to work.
At work is not a different story. I’m not allowed to talk about my job except that it is incredibly stressful. Well, most jobs are, but mine is made worse by the fact that I don’t have an inch of interest in what I am doing. There is too much pressure for such a routinary work. My sole motivation is money. So at work in order to save myself from suicide, I drink a lot of coffee, read a book, tweet a lot and sometimes write this blog. By 10PM, I should be off home feeling like I have wasted another day of my life.
What happens between 10 PM and 10:30 PM is a struggle far harder to overcome. The moment I get home, all my body wants to do is to throw itself on my bed. It is automatic at each sight of my bed. I drink a glass of milk knowing that is is the only healthy diet I could get. Lay on my bed and start to think. Now, this is where I get defeated.
My thoughts are too heavy for my head that when I’m lying awake on my bed it all flows down to my heart like a stream of deadly liquid that slowly eats up every warm feeling that was stored in me. The strength I have conjured the whole day gets drained by the negativity of those thoughts. I fall weak, and my bed is there to catch me. It is convenient. I’ll live again for another day.
I’m tired of this endless loop of failure I call my life.
I want to do something I truly want. When I was small, I wanted to be a scientist. When I was in grade school, I wanted to be a broadcast journalist. When I was in high school, I wanted to be a writer. When I was in college, I forgot everything that I have ever wanted in the past. And now, I’m back to wanting to have something that I really want.
The reason why I’m writing this is to throw it out to the universe without causing much negative vibes. Whereas if I say this out loud or to a specific person, it might be more contagious. The world could use a little less bullshit than what it is already taking. And besides, I have nobody to talk to.
I am lonely, I admit. My friends are having babies, getting married, dating, and I am here producing senseless ramblings. My best friends especially, they talk to me about their boyfriends, it is painful to listen that I just kind of drifted away not just from those conversations but also from them. Communicating with other people is where I fail the worst. My father would put on James Bond films intentionally to initiate a conversation with me. My mother does the same but uses my dog. I moved out when I was 19 and eventually forgot where home exactly is. If you live alone, it is lonesome.
There are some people whom I feel that are trying to reach out and maintain a relationship with me. These people share a lot of common interest and it is fairly easy for me to blend in with them. We occasionally watch movies and discuss them. We had Game of Thrones viewing party and criticized everything. We went to gigs and drunk a bottle of flavored beer. It sounds fun, but I’m tired of having that kind of fun.
I’m 24, does not have a stable job, does not know what I want and does not have anyone I truly trust. I only open up to people when I’m in front of my monitor and if I do, I immediately regret it after. I am good with saying things as long as I know that I am saying it to no one in particular or to strangers I’m never going to meet again. There is a wall between me and the world. And all I do is throw words at that wall hoping someone will pass by and assume that they understand me. That wall also gives me an uncomfortable safety, just like the comfort I get from my bed.
My head is heavy. I pull my chair back. Sway it around. Sip a dose of coffee. Pick up Charles Bukowski’s Ham on Rye. Try to write. And write. And write. And write. And I’m tired.