Venting

I am such a waste of life. My mind twists and distorts everything, and I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know if I want it to stop. Maybe I’m too attached to the fucked up meanings I put on everything to ever let it go. I waste so much time and emotion thinking about all the good things that I’ll never have, and regretting the things I could’ve had, rather than just appreciating the things I do have, or working towards what’s still possible. But I don’t know how to let go of that – the emotional pull is too strong. It’s like I’m addicted to my own dissatisfaction – it’s a mental wound that I love to perpetually reopen. It hurts in a way that seems unbearable, yet it also somehow feels right, & essential. Like I’m saying to myself “Hey, look at all these amazing wonderful things you’ll never experience! Aren’t they great! Isn’t it exciting?! Too bad you’re such a worthless piece of shit! I mean, compared to that your pathetic existence is utterly worthless, right? I mean, why even bother?”