It’s 5am, and I’m up… why?
What a strange feeling. To be tired and yet not want to go to bed. Maybe it’s because I have too many thoughts going through my head. Or maybe it’s because there aren’t any at all. I hate being up this late. This just means I won’t wake up until 4pm at the earliest. To arise to the thought that you’ve wasted yet another day is a terrible feeling. And yet, I can’t bring myself to fall asleep earlier. I procrastinate, ponder, worry. It never ends. And so comes the endless cycle of reviewing just what is exactly wrong with my life.
There are various things I am upset with, but they all have something in common: me. As much as I like to put the blame on others or attribute the failure of the situation on chance, it is almost always my fault. But I don’t face it. I can’t. If I do, then I’ll fall apart. The reason why I’m so unhappy, the reason why I stay awake in bed, it’s simply because of my inability to do anything properly.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this. I really don’t. This intermittent pang of loneliness, constant fear of failure, apprehension of the future. A perpetual sense of guilt. I bring forth absolutely nothing into this world. I have no significance. I wish my life would mean something, that it would bring joy or happiness even to one person. But I don’t. I’m only a burden. And I’ve known it all along.
So while I try to convince myself that this random rambling of words is poignant, I try to find within my body the momentum to get up and wash my face of both my makeup and troubles. I will sleep well just as soon as the sun rises, and everything is all right yet again. I don’t know whether it’s better to feel the weight, or to lose my humanity and feel nothing at all.
Random Daze theme by Polaraul