Hello world,
I do have to ramble on it now, even though I said I wouldn't. I am actually not writing this so that somebody will read it. I genuinely hope nobody is bored enough to fight his or her way through these ramblings. If you're reading this, please just stop and go to YouTube and watch some funny dog or cat compilation videos.
This morning, when I was cycling to the train station, a thought crossed my mind. I honestly couldn't believe I even thought of it - and, even worse, that I did linger with the possibility for a few minutes and not reject the thought at once. I guess it tells me in what a dark place I am right now. I was ... and I am so ashamed admitting this, but I was seriously considering giving away my dog. I hate myself for typing this, I despise myself for even considering it. I've taken the responsibility for his life, and just because I am ... not good ... right now, doesn't mean I can just give him away. He relies upon me. He relies upon me to put his needs above mine. But seriously, right now he'd be better off with someone else. I can hardly get myself to walk him. He was happier when I was still with my ex boyfriend, when we took him for a long walk in the forest, and a different forest each day, a different route, and he met so many dogs. He was happier with our other dog, someone to cuddle with. Someone to play with. He was happier ... these days I hardly get myself to remember taking his food from the fridge and giving him fresh water. I am ... a horrible person. He'd be better off with a family, with people who don't have a hard time getting up in the morning. Who don't look in the mirror and hate what they see.
I haven't been this bad for months. Years, most likely. And it's a vicious circle. I do not like to admit it, but ... I tend to hurt myself. I've never been a cutter. I've never physically hurt myself. I'm too mellow for that. I harm myself differently. I just ... stop functioning. Deprive myself of sleep. Force myself to eat unhealthy, and way too much. God, I am so fucking ashamed typing these words, but the last couple of days I literally forced myself to binge. It wasn't even that I craved the food, but I forced myself to eat, eat, eat, until I nearly threw up. Why? Well. My best guess is: to show myself how weak I am, and most of all to punish myself by forcing me to be someone I absolutely don't want to be and who I usually am not. I also stop, well, doing my hair, dressing decently, taking care of myself. So that the world sees how ugly I really am, and so that nobody could take an interest in me in the slightest. - It's almost impossible to pull myself out of this. I'm honestly not sure if I can do it. My apartment is a mess - and again, that both shows what a disgusting mess I am, and it prevents me from getting better - because there's just no clean clothes or food in the fridge, and in a kitchen where the dishes are piling up it's impossible to cook. You may just say, well, when you come home today, start tidying up your place. And I honestly would love to do that. It's just ... that I can't. I'm petrified. As soon as I walk in the door, I cannot ... like ... something's keeping me from doing it. It's like something within me that says 'don't you dare clean your place. You deserve it like that'.
Remember how I said I take happiness in the little things? I deprive myself of those, too. I make myself be this non-functioning ... thing that just eats and sleeps and works, but that's not really doing a good job. This sounds silly (and slightly arrogant), but ... I am a smart girl. And my mind needs input. I need things to think about, I need new projects, I need ... to feel productive. I need this. Desperately. To feel good, to feel like myself, to be myself. Of course, I like a lazy day every now and then, but most of the time I need tasks and projects and intellectual input and work and and and. I'd go to pieces if I couldn't ... think. - So guess what I am doing to harm myself, huh? Yeah. I stop. I still go to work, because - well, I can't just not show up. And I do work. I'm not doing a good job (I am actually at work right now), but I am there. But I don't study. I don't read. - I love reading. And there are so many great books piling up at home, and even more great books at the bookshop, and I want to get a hold of each and everyone of those. I want to broaden my horizon, dive in - discover new worlds, new things - on each and every level. But I am not letting myself. Instead, I waste my time on Netflix. Not even watching the good stuff. But some really, really bad movies that are just a big, a huge waste of time.
I don't know how to go on. I ... sometimes wish there was somebody prohibiting me to treat me like that. But who am I kidding? I need to be strong myself. - I just am not. So much weight on my shoulders, I really don't know how to cope. And it'll just get worse. The semester will start in a few weeks time. And there's a term paper deadline that I am likely to miss. And I can't even get myself to email the teacher and ask her for a new deadline - she said she'd be fine with that. But I can't even make myself do that. Pathetic, isn't it?
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen