Here. Again.
Mood: Suddenly Very Depressed
Music: Sleeping At Last - Ghosts
Why’d I look at it again?
I couldn’t sleep. It was like I was itching to. This time I took more time… soaked it all in. It bothered me yesterday, isn’t once enough? And now my thoughts and emotions are racing. For some reason it makes me question myself. It makes me hate all the things that aren’t good enough… all the things that should be better. All the things I wish I was but am not. All the things that would be better for them. For her. For me. It all starts with the jealousy. Then comes the doubt. Then the comparisons. What you can’t do, what you should be able to do. Issues, issues, issues. Then the floodgates open.
I hate my jealousy. I hate my masochism. I hate my doubting. I hate that I have nothing to show for. I hate that I’m always second-guessing my dreams and myself. I hate that I’m so insecure I’m scared of everything. I hate how I can’t be cooler. I hate how I can’t be dorkier. I hate how everything, whether I like it or not, turns into a competition - a comparison; another way to make me feel better or worse about myself. I hate how I feel bad when I see the good in others and how I feel good when I see worse than myself in others. I hate how I almost never finish what I start. I hate how all the ideas I have never are put into practice. I hate how those ideas are shared with everyone and the expectations that follow, and the disappointment that follows the expectations after that. I hate that I lie. I hate that I overanalyze. I hate how I self-sabotage. I hate how there are so many things I want to do that I never even begin. I hate how even when I want something so bad, sometimes I can’t even bring myself to put in one iota of effort to attain them. I hate how at the same time, sometimes, I want something so bad I’ll do anything to get it and i don't have to think twice to exert the effort, but it's never for the right thing. I hate how I can’t be objective when thinking about myself. I hate that I can’t sing well. I hate that I can’t dance well. I hate that I never learned to use Photoshop properly. I hate that I never learned to play the bassoon when I was a kid. I hate how I still can’t read treble clef. I hate that I can’t draw. I hate that I convince myself I believe in me when everyone tells me they do, fully knowing that the most likely reason I hate and hate and hate is that I don’t. I hate that I never continued a lot of the things I was considered good at when I was young. I hate that I stopped reading. I hate that I didn't do as well in school as I could have. I hate that I lost some sense of right and wrong along the way. I hate most of my past. I hate my lack of discipline. I hate my defensiveness. I hate my extreme personality and hate how I love it at the same time. I hate how I sometimes do and say without thinking. I hate how I can be oblivious. I hate how I can’t understand, and I hate how I hate not understanding. I hate the fact that I know what’s wrong with me and yet never seem to do anything about it. I hate the way I deal with my emotions. I hate the way I always act all right when I’m not, even when there shouldn’t be anything wrong. I hate the way I keep the important things to myself, even when I’m trying so hard to bring it all out. I hate the way that I can’t let go of things. I hate the way I get so easily affected by certain things. I hate the way that my feelings take hold of me sometimes. I hate how I can’t just be happy when I have every reason to be. I hate how I break down and cry when I’m all alone; just when everything should be ok – when you have the one thing in the world that makes everything alright, but at the same time all your misery springs from the thought of it.
Why am I crying again?
Music: Sleeping At Last - Ghosts
Why’d I look at it again?
I couldn’t sleep. It was like I was itching to. This time I took more time… soaked it all in. It bothered me yesterday, isn’t once enough? And now my thoughts and emotions are racing. For some reason it makes me question myself. It makes me hate all the things that aren’t good enough… all the things that should be better. All the things I wish I was but am not. All the things that would be better for them. For her. For me. It all starts with the jealousy. Then comes the doubt. Then the comparisons. What you can’t do, what you should be able to do. Issues, issues, issues. Then the floodgates open.
I hate my jealousy. I hate my masochism. I hate my doubting. I hate that I have nothing to show for. I hate that I’m always second-guessing my dreams and myself. I hate that I’m so insecure I’m scared of everything. I hate how I can’t be cooler. I hate how I can’t be dorkier. I hate how everything, whether I like it or not, turns into a competition - a comparison; another way to make me feel better or worse about myself. I hate how I feel bad when I see the good in others and how I feel good when I see worse than myself in others. I hate how I almost never finish what I start. I hate how all the ideas I have never are put into practice. I hate how those ideas are shared with everyone and the expectations that follow, and the disappointment that follows the expectations after that. I hate that I lie. I hate that I overanalyze. I hate how I self-sabotage. I hate how there are so many things I want to do that I never even begin. I hate how even when I want something so bad, sometimes I can’t even bring myself to put in one iota of effort to attain them. I hate how at the same time, sometimes, I want something so bad I’ll do anything to get it and i don't have to think twice to exert the effort, but it's never for the right thing. I hate how I can’t be objective when thinking about myself. I hate that I can’t sing well. I hate that I can’t dance well. I hate that I never learned to use Photoshop properly. I hate that I never learned to play the bassoon when I was a kid. I hate how I still can’t read treble clef. I hate that I can’t draw. I hate that I convince myself I believe in me when everyone tells me they do, fully knowing that the most likely reason I hate and hate and hate is that I don’t. I hate that I never continued a lot of the things I was considered good at when I was young. I hate that I stopped reading. I hate that I didn't do as well in school as I could have. I hate that I lost some sense of right and wrong along the way. I hate most of my past. I hate my lack of discipline. I hate my defensiveness. I hate my extreme personality and hate how I love it at the same time. I hate how I sometimes do and say without thinking. I hate how I can be oblivious. I hate how I can’t understand, and I hate how I hate not understanding. I hate the fact that I know what’s wrong with me and yet never seem to do anything about it. I hate the way I deal with my emotions. I hate the way I always act all right when I’m not, even when there shouldn’t be anything wrong. I hate the way I keep the important things to myself, even when I’m trying so hard to bring it all out. I hate the way that I can’t let go of things. I hate the way I get so easily affected by certain things. I hate the way that my feelings take hold of me sometimes. I hate how I can’t just be happy when I have every reason to be. I hate how I break down and cry when I’m all alone; just when everything should be ok – when you have the one thing in the world that makes everything alright, but at the same time all your misery springs from the thought of it.
Why am I crying again?
posted by .: [ dizzyfreak ] :. at 03:50
3 Comments:
just top thinking too much. tambay ka na lang sa arki, maha-happy ka pa! hehe :p
-leni
UNIC says,
You're thinking too much. What you really need to do is this. Sit down one day and start thinking about what you want to do in life, where you want to be. Start making plans, and don't laugh at them, because it's a start, at least. Go out, get some exercise. Beat someone up, get thrashed after that, and shake his hand afterwards.
There are things that you're brilliant at. Take charge and do them.
-who else?
You are not thinking to much.
These are all valid reasons to feel bad. Quite obviously.
Maybe imagine the advice you would give someone who came to you feeling this way.
You know all the answers.
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