existential mess (volume i)

isn’t it daunting that the things you do as a teenager effect the entire rest of your existence?
I mean, you’re forced into a schooling system that is designed to pressure you into higher education, then you’re shoved into a job you may or may not enjoy for the rest of your miserable existence.

(if you can’t tell, I’m feeling extra existential tonight.)

an overwhelming amount of stress has latched itself onto me like a leech, sucking the joy out of my soul and frankly, for it I have myself to blame. I haven’t done the schoolwork I should’ve, I’ve been spending the past few days merely coasting through my teenagehood – reaping the benefits of having little to no responsibilities while I still can.

On top of snowballing stress and anxiety, my body has chosen now of all times to crumble it’s own immune system.

so here I am.

bed-ridden and stuck with anxiety.
let me tell you, anxiety is awful company.
I mean, I’m just sitting here with my cat trying to watch some movies and he bursts into my brain like
“hey remember all that schoolwork? yeah if you don’t build a good work ethic right now you’re gonna get a shit atar and a job you hate and waste your existence being unhappy haha okay good chat see you, well, soon enough :)”

what a tool.

 

on a completely seperate train of thought, for the life of me I can’t remember what the honest-to-god fuck I’ve done for the past few months. Time just seems to be slipping away and I’m blissfully unaware.

I have a really bad feeling that I’m going to continuously forget periods of time until I’m literally on my deathbed with little-to-no idea on how I spent my existence.

I don’t remember anything past the age of 12. Everything before that is literally a complete blur.

that’s three quarters of my life I don’t recall even happening.

 

dear reader, I understand that the past few months I have been distant.
maybe a little cold.
my sincere uncaring for my own wellbeing has reached a breaking point and frankly, I don’t know where to go.
I know that the best of you, those brightest stars in my night sky, will tell me that I can always talk to them.
that they’ll always be there for me.
that they love me.

but the truth is, i just can’t talk to you.
because I don’t fully understand why I feel the way I do.
does anyone, really?

 

jesus, i started this off as a life update and now i’m sobbing over the bloody keyboard.

i’m sorry, dear reader. my writings are not as cohesive nor as enjoyable as they used to be.

please view the mistakes of my administration with indulgence.

i wish i could do better for you all, really, i do.

i love you all.