I’ve written about it several times and have read other peoples take on it, the inability/lack of desire to get up and go after work.
I want to leave so badly; I work too many hours and I’m not paid for any time I spend here outside of 9-5. I come in hours early, stay too late, go in on weekends…
I want to get up and go now, but there’s nothing to go to. I can go to my mothers house and hang around with my kid brother. I could do something right and getting him on track with his schooling and tutoring.
I feel like crying; I’m so sober. When I’m not sober, I tell myself that it’s not so bad and that I can make it and that despite how I feel physically/mentally when sober, it’s all in my head. It’s easy to realize that when I can barely feel my body and it’s near impossible for anything to bother me.
I’m trying really hard to hold onto the thought, the feeling I have when I’m not sober, when I’m re-assuring myself and willing myself not to act out anymore when I get frustrated. I see all my negative behaviour and it makes me feel ashamed. I’m trying to remember the shame I feel later at how I act and think and feel now.
It’s so hard to talk to people, any people, when I’m so green with envy at all they have. I feel crippled by my fear of people, of interacting. Muspelhem replied to a comment I made in my last post and I sat staring at it, feeling strangled by the anxiety at having to reply to a comment that made me feel good about myself. Good, bad; doesn’t seem to matter because I cower.
I think I should kill myself, because I refuse the idea of medication and therapy is just a racket. Do I want to live? Not from this perspective; I can’t answer that question honestly because I’m biased. How can anyone answer that question honestly? If you feel good, then it’s no. If you feel bad, then it’s yeah. I’m on a tangent…
I really should go home. Others have started staying late and seeing them reminds me that all I have to go home to is a glass pipe. I only blame myself, for not trying hard enough. I’m where I am because I wasn’t willing to be somewhere. I wasn’t courageous enough to try something different. It’s ironic; the animal I fear the most is the one I have the most in common with.
I’m a rat; all I know is survival. Everything else(people and socializing, happiness) is superflous. But I’m not even surviving… I’m a terrible rat
1 comment
Hey. I know the feeling of anxiety when replying to a comment, I often experience it myself on here. Don’t worry, you don’t have to respond to mine. 🙂
I still enjoy your writing. All the best man.