i am my own worst critic (my brain is trying to kill me.)

I think it should be studied just how difficult it can feel to do basic tasks. When I have less to do, it makes it even more difficult to get things done, because the small things feel even bigger. When I have too much to do, I don’t have time to give myself a break because I literally can’t. I have been feeling like I’m underwater for a while now. It’s been ebbing and flowing like an unsteady current, pulling me under and stealing the breath from my lungs. No matter how many times I describe the same exact feeling, I can never seem to find the words good enough to get my point across. I use the same metaphors constantly, grasping at straws for any attempt to get through to people just what this feels like. But maybe that’s the point. There is genuinely no good explanation for this. And that is what is most frustrating.

Because here's the thing. I can write, yes? I know I have the ability to put my thoughts on a page and write convoluted similes and analogies for every minuet (is that the spelling? I have no clue don’t quote me on this) thing going on in my head, right? And yet. Nothing ever comes from this. And look, I don’t do this for other people. I mean, obviously I like knowing that others can read this and take something away from it, that maybe whatever I share can help validate or rationalize someone else who is going through something similar to me, and at its core this is truly a diary-esque option for me when I have no one else to talk to. And yet.

It feels like everything in my life is the biggest, most intense feeling ever and I can’t get past it. Like how am I supposed to be able to get anything done when my panic response is that it literally feels like my world is ending, all of the time. Jesus, like isn’t that just so exhausting? I have assignments I know I need to do; meetings and classes I know I have to show up for, and the only thing I can do right now is write. That’s the only thing I am able to do. Because everything else is just way too much to handle. But it’s not. I know it’s not. So, what is this weird phenomenon with me being unable to do a single thing? It is so intense all of the time and I don’t know what to do with any of it. I don’t even know if there is anything I can do.

The most difficult thing ever is when you know that you aren’t feeling right, that something feels off, and yet there seem to be no words in the English language available to describe it even for a moment. There isn’t a way for me to describe it to anyone without it either sending me straight to a mental hospital or being completely isolated by advice from people none the wiser. Like free me from this prison of my own creation. Why is my brain genuinely my worst enemy and out to destroy my life, like I thought I was supposed to have some kind of support here man, what the actual fuck are you doing. Seriously. Like actually why am I set on sabotaging myself for literally no fucking reason.

That’s another thing. Speaking of self-sabotage, the way that it’s just me and my brain for the rest of my life and this shit is the world’s worst roommate. I’m two seconds away from thinking I am the smartest person alive or the most useless human being on planet earth on any given day and there is no pre-warning or anything, no ‘hey heads up you might be a little overwhelmed today, but I got your back!’, of course not. Instead, it’s ‘you can’t do a single thing right and if you try now, you will only fail miserably and let down everyone around you and ruin their expectations of you ever becoming something good in life!’… So yeah. Not…not doing great. Have hit what the kids would call an ATL, which means All Time Low, not Atlanta.

I have times throughout the week where I feel like, okay, like this isn’t that bad and life is lovely and full of joy and whimsy and then I blink, and a switch has flipped, and I feel like breathing is painful and takes too much effort. Is this a manifesto? Please don’t read this at a funeral, I can write much better things for something like that. This is purely a place for me to put my deepest darkest secrets on the internet where it is totally private, and no one can send a wellness check on me right? Oh. Yeah, no that makes sense. I get why you’re probably worried right now. I would be too. But like, can I not just vent and talk through my emotions without swat being called to knock down my door? I love it here. I don’t regret this for a second and this is easily one of the best decisions I have ever made in my entire life. This isn’t about regrets, or location, or anything like that. This is just how I am. How I’ve always been, mind you, so don’t get all concerned now like this isn’t exactly how I have always felt about myself and the world. Is this the cynicism talking? Or maybe it’s my agnostic will to not believe in the things that I can’t see or logically explain? I am trying, I really am. This life thing is hard though; you can’t blame me for being skeptical about everything.

I swear there is someone out to get me. That’s my favorite thing to say when I am having a bad day, or bad week, or a bad 19 years of living. ‘Someone is out to get me’ I mean this as a joke, but it does feel good to put the blame on something external instead of facing the mirror of truth which is simply that my brain hates me and is genuinely trying to destroy any potential I could ever have. I have no clue what that says about me and how to fix it, and being completely honest with you, it’s been so long that I don’t even know if I want it to be fixed. I’m used to this feeling; it’s the only constant in my life that has never changed no matter what setting I’m in or who I talk to. There is always that nagging, demonic voice in my ear telling my horrible things. If you are stuck in the dark for too long, any type of light will feel blinding, no matter how much you want to be able to see. Something something about leading a horse to water or whatever. You can say I’m being dramatic, or it isn’t that deep, or everyone feels like this sometimes. But I don’t fucking care. Okay? There is nothing that pisses me off more than someone trying to minimize my emotions or give me advice like I haven’t already tried everything under the god damn sun to work through this shit on my own.

I don’t even know what I’m wanting from this. There isn’t exactly a point. I guess that in itself is the actual point. That sometimes, there isn’t a good enough logical explanation for any of this. And that fucking sucks. Like so much. Because I can’t realistically find good solutions to something I don’t even understand myself. No matter what amount of research I do, what psychological YouTube videos I watch or personality quizzes I take about myself to try and understand the inner workings of my own mind, I will still feel like this at the end of the day, and I won’t be able to solve it. I am the single most confusing puzzle I have ever had to complete. The corners are missing and all I have are middle pieces of the exact same color and fucked up shapes that couldn’t possibly fit together.

I wonder how it feels to not have to deal with any of this. How does it feel to be in control of your life and have a mind that works with you to lift you up instead of tearing you down? Because this bitch won’t ever shut up and it is getting so exhausting to have to deal with insults every other second. Having to deal with questioning every interaction I have because I am convinced that everyone is exhausted by me and annoyed when I open my mouth to speak. And what a tiring way to live. I thrive off of external validation and years of therapy do nothing to keep me from constantly reverting to the default settings that I was born with. Like how fucked up does my mental circuit board have to be for my mind to be this screwed up. And watch, the next time I write I’ll be hyping myself up and talking about all of the good things happening in my life, but forgive me for allowing myself to feel and be cynical for a minute. You could’ve stopped reading at any point, but somehow you still wanted to read this far. It really is like a car crash, right? Like, it’s so clearly annoying to read this much complaining, but you can’t look away. Some part of you wants to stay and see it to the end, to see if I have a point or some magical solution to the first-world problems I create for myself. Well, I don’t. This isn’t a self-help blog or a love & peace resolution for you. Trust, if it was, my writing would get a lot more boring, and it would start to sound a little cult-like and O.O.C (out of character, for you non AO3 freaks) if I started preaching about how to unlock your inner self and achieve true happiness. I’m only 19, a cynic at heart and most likely a Nihilist, so what can you expect from me?

You want to know what I did today instead of doing any of the work I had to do? I watched “Love Island”. Yes, Love. Fucking. Island. I really am Rue Bennet to my core. And there you have it ladies and others, I finally went to bed. Did it save my sanity? Perhaps I woke up feeling brand new? HA! No. As a matter of fact, somehow, I have fallen further into the rabbit hole that is my own self destruction, one bombshell at a time. And here’s the other thing. I love my classes. I love my job. I love what I do, and I am confident that I am good at it. And, I am also utterly overwhelmed. All of these things can be true at once without them canceling each other out. The human brain is truly so interesting. There’s a reason that serial killers are so intriguing. It’s because they operate on a completely different level of delusion that I have never seen before. Watching genuinely horrible people make horrible decisions helps me to feel better about myself. Is that fucked up? I’m literally just a girl, I never said I had any of this figured out.

The point is, the world is insane. People are weird. And trying to figure out why I am the way that I am is the world’s greatest mystery. Will I figure it out? Maybe. If I don’t though, you will get a whole lot of writing from me. I’d say that is one positive to everything here.