2008-03-07 - 5:08 p.m.
Jack Does Not Know What He Is Living For
***I wrote this in my paper journal a while back, when I was medicated and waiting to fall asleep. I intended to post it but forgot. Now I am going through all the things I should have been posting and realized this fits right in with the last entry.
I am hoping I can finally get back into the habit of posting regularly.***
I feel like quitting my job and walking away from my life.
But this isn't a movie or a fairytale. You know you would die. That or crawl back dead and a different person, loathed, hated and unable to be trusted.
I feel like walking away from myself.
But you don't even know who that person is. Walk away from the bullshit, not you.
I feel like I am getting old and dying.
I just lay in bed at night and think about my waning youth. My meaningless ending life. Bracing myself for what will be considered an early, slow, painful, unmedicated death.
I know it will take courage. Probably more than I think I have at times. But fuck hospitals. Fuck artificial life.
I am either going to die like this, or by my own hand.
I am obsessed and preoccupied with both. Instead of living my life, I am preparing for my death. Which seems so much bigger and more prominant than this little flickering blip.
Sometimes I really feel like I gave up and am just waiting to die
I am afraid I will realize what I wasted after it is too late.
After I am dead.
But in a sense, time that has not even happened yet, is already wasted because I can not escape routine.
I am embedded in the machine. I feel old and tired and set in my ways. The only ways to reclaim my life seem to be to end it or walk away from it.
Walk away from everything I own. Everything I have ever known. Just blow it all up.
There has to be another way but I have been searching for it my entire life.
I just keep getting older and older, and not any closer.
My spirit has been crushed, broken and eliminated.
I can see what is happening but somehow I can not do anything about it.
I am powerless, weak and scared.
I have no self confidence and no belief that I am capable of anything other than self destruction.
In this fucked up world, sometimes up is down.
Freedom is in losing your mind.
I am afraid that I am just going to shut down without warning. Decide that I am not doing this anymore. I can not go. Not anymore.
I am afraid that I will lie down and die in my own sorrow and despair.
I wish I could call my therapist right now and tell her I am afraid that I am going to lay down and die. I don't know what I am living for.
Could she please possibly enable me? For just a little while?
Take me away from everything long enough to remember who I am and why I am alive.
Let me find what I am living for.
She seems to think I can do this on my own.
Conquer everything that has destroyed me. All the rest I need is in the pill I take every night to sleep.
I probably just need a new job and more medication.
That will hold me for a while.
But that destructive wildness in my soul will always be there.
I will always know what I secretly want. And I will long for it. And fear it.
Play the little back and forth game called sanity in the real world.
I play myself in intervals.
Good me. Bad me. Good me. Bad me.
This will never end. It will go on as long as I have to do this.
Which at this rate seems like forever. Unless I get really lucky or finally crack.
The older I get, the more pitiful and useless I will become.
Hey, it's your youth. What's left of it anyway. Go fucking nuts. Pretend you are terminally ill. Pretend you're a cancer patient, like the ones at those support groups you like so much. Pretend you don't know how long you have to live. Because, in a way, it's true. You're dying. I'm dying. We're all dying. Make the most of it and never forget it. Make everything worth something.
I can get up on my self motivational soap box and listen to my inner Tyler speak, but somehow nothing changes me.
I am resigned to just sit here and die. Sit here getting old, hating my job and feeling sorry for myself. Tyler slap me.
My therapist asks me "Isn't there anything you want to live for?"
I can never give her a straight answer.
One without excuses that everything is tainted and ruined for me by current circumstance.
I really need to start asking myself this question.
Though I already know the resounding answer.
But as long as my life keeps moving around and around in rectangular conveyor belt circles, bringing me back around to the same tired chewed gum smashed between the treads, I will never feel free.
I am slowly realizing that I do not know what I am living for. I do not know what to do with the rest of my life.
If I figure it out, will things finally slow down a little?
Jack Finally Sees His Therapist - 2008-04-01
The Old Antagonist's Friend Dies - 2008-03-20
It's Only After You've Lost Everything... - 2008-03-12
Jack Is Afraid Of Losing Everything - 2008-03-10
