Most of the People I've Sexed. (Bet that caught your attention.)

Is it ill-advised to make a poem book filled with chapters of my loves and sexual conquests and post it on the internet?

Rhetorical question, since I did it anyway.

And hey! Here's the link.

http://www.fictionpress.com/s/3004290/1/Little_Black_Book


Enjoy.

title:

I don't like where I am in my life.  I don't know what I'm doing.  I don't know where I'm going.  I see people around me succeeding, but... I don't feel like I'm succeeding right now.  I know I'm not.  I'm not achieving jack-shit.  I feel like I've been at this standstill for so long that I need to fucking do something about it; I need to take that first step, but I haven't.  It's like every day is never the right day.  So I'm beginning to think there's never going to be a right day, which makes me wonder when I'm going to motivate my lazy ass to do something, anything -- something new, something creative, something nostalgic, stimulating, interesting... I feel like I'm disappointing myself, and it's embarrassing to admit it, but I think by this point it's probably pretty obvious, anyway.

But here I am, sitting, doing nothing, and I feel incapable of doing anything else. Even nothing is almost asking too much, it feels like.  I feel so irritable... and yet all day I smile, I'm polite (or try to be... I don't always succeed), I go to work at Taco Bell and realize that's about it.  I go to work at Taco Bell.  And I hate it.

So that's the problem.  You know, the really major problem that I'm too embarrassingly, disgustingly, apparently lazy to solve.  And there are probably solutions I'm not even seeking.

Find a new job, a better job.
Start taking classes again.

I want to do both of those things, yet I'm doing neither, and I have literally no excuse.  It's pathetic.  Yet here I sit, beating myself up about it rather than doing something about it.  But I honestly feel that in these situations it is necessary for me to get all this shit out of me before I can continue, before I can progress, move forward. All this self-hate that is tripping me up, weighing me down, slowing me.  Everyone has this immense faith in me  but myself.  Where is my faith in me?  Why am I so weak?

My birthday came and went, and now I just feel like the clock is ticking.  So existential, as though everything is just absurd and ridiculous and it gets difficult to see the point in trying, to be honest.

I know I should start at least trying to knock out these negative feelings.  That's why I have to get them all out first, I think.

But even that is so exhausting.  Where is my energy?  I thought I was 21, not 101, like, wtf.

Oh, hi, I still exist (:

just thought I'd let you know, in case you were wondering or forgot (:

Angry Philosopher.

I'm beginning to believe that it's hard to grow wise, progress, and do well for oneself without going absolutely, secretly, but definitely insane in the process.


I'm beginning to wonder how it's possible for me to be so selfish and so sympathetic simultaneously.

I feel anxious. A lot of the time, if not all the time.  My brain never stops.  Sometimes I think I hate it.  I just want to be happy, and I don't know how.  I feel like I need to take responsibility for my outlook on life, on my own emotions, but it gets so hard hearing the people you love telling you to stop feeling one way or suggest feeling another way, as though it's a choice.  I can only try so hard before my gas runs out, and then I feel like I'm running on empty.  It feels like driving a car with a sliver of gas and running out and slowly coming to a stop in the middle of the road with all these cars zooming past me, and I have to get out and fucking push it to the nearest gas station there is -- and god knows where the fuck it is -- and I'm too proud to ask for help, and so I strain my shoulders in the process, and then payday finally comes and I can afford to fill my gas tank at last and suddenly it doesn't matter because I strained the shit out of my arms and don't fucking feel like going anywhere anyway.

I wish I could be more poetic about the fucking thoughts and emotions that bounce around in my brain.


So, what should I be doing with my life?  I know there is no right answer, so sometimes when people who know me come through the drive-thru at Taco Bell -- people who know I made Dean's List two fucking semesters at Michigan State, who know that I'm intelligent, that I have "potential" -- sometimes I just want to punch something. Or someone.  Or myself.

I hate feeling like I'm failing while feeling at the same time that I know that I'm not.  Why do I let the thoughts of others affect me so?

Why do I have so many emotions.
These aren't even questions anymore.  They're demands that no one -- No. One. No. One. -- has the answers to.

^ Did I just end a sentence with a preposition? Yeah I did, so suck my dick.

It feels good to be angry.

anxious.

Ideally, I really want to have children someday, but I'm afraid and even feel minutely guilty. This world scares me, and I feel like it won't get better. At least, I don't expect it to get better.  I think, in order to succeed in this world, your attitude has to be better.

I've always felt like a fluff. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a huge, emotional cry baby sap and always have been.  When I try to think about the psychology of it all, it humbles and bewilders me. That aside, I don't think  it really matters.  I don't expect things to get any easier.  But I believe that if I'm going to wake up every day and work my tail off for $7.65 an hour while I try to figure out what I want to do with my life without going literally insane in the process, I need to toughen my skin. I'm working on it, and learning the difficulty of doing it all with a smile on my face, but I still smile.  For real, and I know it.

Anxiety and possibly low-self esteem may be to blame, but I feel as though my brain literally never ceases to race.  Today I thought to myself, there probably literally isn't a psychiatrist in existence, dead or alive, who wasn't or isn't at least a little bit really fucking insane.  Then I thought seriously about becoming a psychiatrist.

Sharing my Secrets.

I can hear a train racing by on the tracks in the distance.

I hear the Law & Order: Criminal Intent theme music.

And finally, as I lay on the bed in my pajama shorts, with a pillow between my knees, my hair still matted from my Taco Bell hat… finally, I can relax.

I can breathe, listen to the wind rustle the leaves, and try and calm myself.

I’ve been having a hard time dealing with… well, everything lately.

To be entirely honest with you, I feel like I’m walking a tightrope of sanity, day after day.  The slightest breeze could knock me out of my right mind, assuming (very hopefully) that I am in my right mind, anyway.  It gets tiring and difficult, trying to keep my posture, my back straight, my chin up and a smile on my face, especially when it feels like the weight of the world depends on it.

It probably doesn’t, but I’m slightly worried that if I try and convince myself otherwise, it will prove even more difficult to stay sane.

People are such curious creatures.  Anymore, I feel like I treat each day like a battle, keeping my ears perked and my mouth shut when possible – because in a war, you can never be too sure who are your friends and who are your enemies. 

But I’m learning patience, or at least trying.  I’m learning to be more conscientious of my actions, primarily because of how much I study other peoples’ actions and responses, their facial expressions and tones of voice, the little things that give away your position, what you’re thinking.  I’ve found that, by trying to keep to the corners, it’s easy to read people.  But I’ve also considered that it is probably just as easy to read me.  So I’ve also been practicing my poker-face.

Especially, though, I’m forcing myself to write.  Squeezing the shit out of this rope between my toes that seems to go on forever…

happy Monday.

the truth is...

Today is the first day back to school, and I'm really scared... not because I'm going back, but because I'm not.