Am I getting worse?
Or am I getting worse just simply by thinking that I am getting worse.
Am I enabling myself?
Am I locking myself out on purpose?
Questions that can only be answered by me, but unable to question myself.
Mornings are kind of a difficult thing.
I sleep late, maybe around 3AM.
I see the time and it’s not that I’m tired. I just know that I have to be up the other day, and I figure that sleep is the right thing for me to do for my body.
I’m not really sure if I am tired. But I do fall asleep, so I guess that’s good news. But sleep comes with dreams, dreams that I don’t want. Dreams that tell me I’m making all the wrong decisions. Dreams that instil fear in me, that makes me feel unproductive. Nightmares.
And I can’t wake up in the morning. Probably because I slept so late.
10AM is a struggle. I want to sleep in until 1 in the afternoon. Will that be enough?
I can’t bring myself to get up.
To flutter my eyes open. Too heavy.
Breakfast not even on my mind.
Not even hungry.
The breakfast that I used to look forward to. Or at least got myself to believe that it’s the only reason I got up in the morning. It helped. But that doesn’t even help. I’m not hungry and when I eat I just feel like I’m betraying my body, although my body is actually betraying me.
I eat half of my usual breakfast.
Even the half is a little too tough.
Coffee? Not even on my mind.
Coffee used to be my favourite thing in the morning. Get me going.
But I don’t even want it.
I do want to get going in the morning.
The only thought in my mind is going back to sleep.
Coffee helps me to feel productive and do things in the morning after breakfast.
That’s not what I want.
And again, I feel like I’m betraying myself.
So I sit here. In front of my laptop. With my coffee. Attempting to do something.
Nothing seems appealing.
I feel like I should be job searching. Applying. Writing cover letters.
But I just need to wake up a little more. Feel a little more excited. Be prepared to be drained.
So I turn to doing other things that usually helps me to get started on my work.
Usually some procrastination is enough to whip me back into work mode.
Feeling of not being productive is not something I can sit with.
As a minor workaholic, I’m most comfortable when I am doing work.
So to get myself back into my work mode to look for jobs, I procrastinate and go through my usual list of activities.
Online chatting. I used to enjoy it. Talking to people online, a swift escape from reality as we shitpost and shit talk. But the enjoyment in that is gone.
It’s just tiring and seems like it’s consuming too much brain power. Talking to people a bore and a chore.
Social media. Becomes a bore and a chore. The needing, the thought of putting up an appearance is tiring. So I just decide not to do anything.
If I can’t put up a face, rather not show any face at all.
Listening to music. Just background music. Not really listening. Not wanting to listen or sing along at all.
Reading. Too much. I feel distracted. By what, I don’t know. Just distracted and mind blank, unable to focus what is on the pages.
I do work out for a little bit. A least my body can be taken care of if I can’t take care of myself mentally.
But it doesn’t last long. I wonder if it’s worth it’d if I feel like this on the inside. But I convince myself that if I look better on the outside people won’t question how I feel or look on the inside.
All my enjoyment just sucked right out of me.
I just want to sleep.
I can sleep for so long, but when I lay back in bed with the thought of wanting to drift away. I fall back into sleep.
I guess that’s one thing to be thankful for.
Am I hungry? No.
Have I gotten anything done? No.
But to my credit, I do have all my tabs open and ready to go. I just need to snap out of this. I tell myself that a bit of a nap will make me feel better. But I know that it’s just going to turn me blue even more.
I get the urges to go around having sex with everyone.
To feel something.
Something inside of me because I feel so empty.
Making me fall into bad habits.
Trying to keep myself away from it, because I might get addicted.
I say I want a nice boy, but no nice boy would be attracted to this nor do they deserve the baggage I bring.
Wanting everything but nothing at all.
Conversations drag on.
What is this feeling of insecurity within myself?
Why do I feel on edge.
Constantly waiting for something to happen fully knowing that nothing is going to happen.
I can’t help it.
My mind numb. My voice small. My heart thumping.
Maybe I should ignore my mind, my body, my heart and just go about as routine.
But when I eat, I feel sick.
I feel nauseous.
I feel stupid for trying.
My mind tells me insecurities.
It tells me I need to be hurting, I need to have problems, I need to stop giving into my body. To stop eating. To be thinner and workout more.
I listen secretly wishing I hadn’t had these thoughts.
Nothing is going to get me to my point of happiness like this.
It’s only driving me further away.
But I feel safe here, because it’s something I know, something I’ve experienced.
I know how this works, and I know I should fight it, but it’s somehow comforting.
Comforted through the hurt.
I know this is not okay.
But it’s hard.