Late Night Contemplations

I love not being able to sleep. I’d surely like to blame it on the cup of coffee I drank hours upon hours ago… but I really know it’s not simple. I also know that it’s stupid to write a blog entry while you’re upset, but frankly… it’s 1:30 in the morning… who else but random people reading this am I going to vent to? No one, because there is no one else. They’re all sleeping, or just not bothered to care.

That brings me where I am now. Feeling like people don’t care. I’m sure they do, but it’s like… they care when I don’t really need it. And then when I do, boom — nothing. Nothing at all. Just like me. Right now, I’ve got nothing.

I moved to another province, where I didn’t know anyone. Left my friends, family, my job, my plans for school, everything. I moved away from it all, left it all 5 months ago to come stay up here because I fell in love with the guy I’m currently dating. Sure, that’s all fine and dandy on paper, romantic even but in practice… it’s not so swell.

I’ve really lost everything. I have hardly any friends left to talk to. I’ve been unemployed for fuck knows how long because I can’t seem to land a job. And every passing minute I just seem to be going further and further backwards. Rewinding all of my hard work to try and make myself better.

Wait. Who am I kidding. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m sorry, I forgot. Because if I’m not comfortable talking with you long enough for you to give me one of your fancy little diagnoses, then that means there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. I’m sorry, did I mention it was late?

So my wise decision five months ago… has left me here. Wide awake at 1:30 in the morning, contemplating my life and how I got to where I am. A year ago… I’d just graduated from High School. I was in such a positive mood… I was hopeful for the future, I was going to attend University, I had a decent job. And hell, even when I decided not to go to University for another year, I still had the decent job, and even got a promotion. Yep. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty nifty. Work a bunch of 3-11s, have a day off, go chill with friends, and go back to work. I liked it. Gave me purpose.

Now the only purpose I have is… well, nothing.
The world won’t stop if I don’t get up in the morning.
Hell, the world won’t even notice, y’know?
A handful of people, sure. Don’t get me wrong.
But the gears just keep on turning, with or without me. I’m no one important. And it kills me, because I used to be. I used to have purpose… I long for that again.

I don’t even think if I had a job now, I could hold it down. I can’t go a day without crying. I can’t go a few hours without some sort of mood swing. I can’t go a few minutes without feeling overwhelmingly stressed. Those don’t sound like skills I want to stick on a resume. I’m pretty much useless at the moment. And that eats at me.

Then there’s the one person up here that keeps me up here — the boyfriend. I really, truly love him. I mean, I’d have to in order to give up everything I have to be up here with him. But I’m always coming in second to something. Something always comes up. He’s always working, which I understand. Hell, someone has to pay bills around here. But when he’s not working… there’s always something else. And of course he compensates by going, “Let’s go out and grab some food, or run some pointless errand.”

I don’t want him to take me out. Really, I’m extraordinarily content with just curling up on the couch once in a while, and watching some TV or a movie. Nothing lavish. I don’t want to be showered with gifts, or taken out to fancy restaurants, or any bullshit like that that guys seem to have in their head that they have to do when they feel they’ve messed up. No. A simple, “Hey… how about we just chill here and watch a movie. Yeah, I’ll even step away from the pointless non-work stuff I was doing on my computer and curl up with you.”

Sometimes… I need that closeness. Because in all honesty… it’s the only thing that reassures me I made the right decision in coming up here. Because I ask myself that question every day.

So here I am… unable to sleep, just contemplating all of this stuff from my life. I’m sure that this blog made next to no sense, but I’m pretty sure no one is reading it anyway. I suppose I’ll need to quest up something that’ll make me drowsy, and deal with all of this in the morning.

Two more.

So, I had two more of those little episodes last night, and I’m really starting to lose my patience with them. I’m stressed, I get it. Quit fucking with me and let me deal with the bloody stress, kapeesh?  They’re basically just making everything worse. It sucks because I stop breathing for just a little bit, but it freaks me out to no end when I can’t breathe, and of course, if it keeps happening someone’s going to make me go back to the stupid hospital, or to the clinic.  I don’t really want to, because doctors only do one of two things.
1) Give me stupid medication that fucks me up even worse.
2) Do absolutely nothing, tell me I’m fine, and basically waste my time.

So, I admitted to both myself, and my boyfriend the reason why I hate myself so much. You know, my lovely manipulative nature that I mentioned in a previous post? It pretty much eats at me, knowing that’s what I’m doing to people, and being fully aware of it as I’m doing it. But at the same time I’ll start thinking people won’t care about me anymore if I’m “better” or “normal”.

That’s a lovely cycle. Depression -> manipulation -> guilt -> punishing myself -> depression -> repeat until I’m able to break the cycle.

See, the worst part of it all, is that I’m very aware of everything, but I can’t seem to make myself get past it. Maybe I just don’t want to get past it. I’m not entirely sure.

Bleh, it’s early. I’ll probably write something else later.

Muse

I’m in search of a muse.

It seems that for the past couple years, the only thing that kept me writing were the unhappy feelings in my life. Depression was always bittersweet. It provided me with the ability to write the smooth spoken phrases, but at the same time excluded me from the entire world. Odd, really. As if being the most depressed out of those in my monkey sphere, gives me an advantage — puts me on a pedestal above everyone else. Sure, they’re happy, but what is happiness worth these days? Isn’t life just a giant game to prove who’s the got the most problems and can earn the most pity? Collect the most comfort?

I tell myself I don’t want to participate in the game, but every time I try to take myself out of it I fail. I’m too used to winning. I’m too used to being good at something, and I’m not entirely ready to give that up just yet. Perhaps that makes me a horrible, selfish individual, but it’s comforting to know that I share this trait with most of humanity anyway, so it loses its insulting nature rather quickly. Depression keeps you under my thumb, because when you feel like it’s your fault, or you want to make me feel better, you’re very easily manipulated.

I hate myself for that. I want to change that. But I don’t want to lose my advantage. I don’t want to step down from my pedestal — even if it’s incredibly lonely up this high. I don’t want to search for a new muse.

Allow me to introduce myself.

The name is Missa, but you can call me the Sarcastic Narcissist.

I’m not entirely sure what there is to say about myself to give you a bit of an introduction to who I am. I suppose I’d fit into the “average 18 year old female” role.  I graduated from High School last year, took a year off to weigh my options, and am pretty much figuring that I’m going to be taking a paralegal course in the fall. And that’s the story of my life.

I aspire to be a lawyer, but I’m settling for less because that’s just how I roll. I’m stuck with this mentality that I’m not good enough for whatever I really want. However, I guess all hope isn’t lost. After I finish the course if I can work in a law firm for a bit, maybe one day I’ll attempt going to Law School once I have experience.

I’ve spent the majority of my life feeling sorry for myself, and putting the blame on others — when really I had to look deep down to actually realize that I wasn’t going to start feeling better until I accepted fault. Over the past 6 years, I’ve dealt with self injury, depression, an eating disorder, been put on anti-depressants, attempted suicide countless times, etc, etc.

Now, before you close your browser thinking, “Great, another emo kid. Forget this.” I want you to realize something. Sure, those things in the past may have defined who I was, they don’t define who I am now. I think mainly the whole reason I created this blog was to hope that perhaps someone might end up reading it, and realizing that there’s life beyond the mishaps of your past, and that like I had said before — once you take a good look at yourself, and realize that only you are holding yourself back, you can begin to move on from the person you used to be. Sure, I’m not entirely “better”, and I’m sure that you’ll realize I’m still struggling with things, but that’s just how life goes.

Alright, that made no sense, and this is a horrible introduction. I really need to work on being more eloquent if I’m going to be writing a blog (even if I’m entirely sure no one will ever read it).

I guess that’s about all for my introduction. Perhaps the next entry will make a bit more sense.