Like a Stone

I'm so tired of feeling like shit all the time. How many times have I written that sentence? How has that become my fucking mantra? It was been a very B A D day. Let'a leave it at that. Don't want to relive the entire thing by going into details, but suffice to say I've been praying for unconsciousness for over 24 hours now.

I find myself hating details these days. It seems as though my life is nothing but details I have no interest in discussing. That's why I haven't really been writing anything of substance recently, I abhor the details. I'm sick of telling the story of days I don't want to remember. I'm sick or writing, of talking to people, of waking up in the morning. I want to sleep indefinitely. I did that tonight and it was good. Came home from work and crashed all night. Just woke up as a matter of fact.

I look at my life and I don't like what it's becoming. I can see my future. I will work, I will live alone eventually, and I will not make any new friends. See? I'm pathetic, this is why I don't like writing anymore. I'm tired of dwelling in my own self-loathing. I do it everyday regardless of whether I write an entry about it or not. Why immortalize it for all to see?

Most of the time I feel really fake. I feel fake at work all smiling and courteous, and quiet. Just having normal chit chat makes me feel like I'm lying. Because when I say "Oh yes I'm doing fine," it's a lie. I'm not fine. I'm not pleasant, I'm not happy, I'm not content in my solitude. I am evil, and mean, and dark, and fuct in the head. But I can't show anyone this because it isn't right to. It scares people. And even though I lack social outlets at the moment I think "how am I suppose to get close to anyone ever again if being myself makes them run away?" Is the only way for me to ever make friends or have a relationship to lie? To create some faux persona that isn't me for everyone else to love? It won't make me feel any better. I still won't be loved for who I am.

I'm a great big lie, and I hate it. I hate the fake me and I hate the real one. No wonder people kill themselves when they reach this point. It becomes impossible to live with yourself when the outside and the inside grow so far apart they can't be reintegrated. I'm gonna die alone and lonely and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

Catch 22

Trying to exercise depresses the fuck out of me mainly because I can never do it right. No matter what movement I'm trying to perform I manage to fuck it up. For instance: I was just trying to do a very simple pilates exercise that involves raising and lowering your arms. That's it. Still I managed to screw it up. I was focusing so much on my arms that I wasn't paying attention to my breathing and started breathing wrong. So I started focusing on my breathing, and then...

(God fucking damn it my mom just let out a brain piercing scream because the Yankees just hit a homer. Made me lose my fucking train of thought. I hate having my computer in the living room.)

...and then I was focusing so much on my breath I screwed up the arm movements. And by then I was just so god damn discouraged I stopped. People with my fear of rejection, perfectionism, and low self esteem should not have to exercise. It simply aggrivates an already existing problem. Depressed people should be physically incapable of being fat. Making someone fat while depressed is god's way of kicking us when we're down. if there is a God he is one sadistic fucking bastard. I'm going to kill him when I get the chance.

Have also been reading about love spells the last few nights. Realized it's been...six years since I last cast one, so I thought maybe I'll give one a shot just as a means to flex the magical muscles I've been allowing to atrophy. However, being an atheist now I'm reading my magic books with a different set of eyes and realizing that new age philosophy and ethics are just as useless to the depressed soul as regular western thought. For instance: they say one shouuld not cast a love spell if you are depressed, have low self-esteem, or are in anyway desperate for romantic love, but don't people typically resort to magic when they are desperate? When no other course of action has paid off? I was always taught magic is a last resort, it is there for you when all else fails, therefore for one to even consider magic there must be a certain level of desperation. *shakes head* I fucking hate it how all forms of western thought, progressive or otherwise, looks down on the mentally and emotionally fuct up! We are told that we will...

A) Never be capable of being involved in a serious relationship

B) Never be capable of holding down a job

C) Never be capable of caring for ourselves

D) Never be normal

Living in a society that views me in that light, how the hell am I suppose to do any of the above? I've tried every god damn method availible to me to fix my broken mind and none of it has worked. Cognitive therapy, behavioral therapy, affirmations, magic, self-help, journaling, meds, nothing has fixed me! And I'm told that if I can't be fixed, than apparently I don't deserve any of the normal pleasures of life! That's not fucking fair! I didn't fucking choose to be this way you bitch of a world.

If I were Willow I'd try to destroy the world too. It's not really worth being in when you can't enjoy the pleasures of it.