Eventually you start to give up. You try again and again to get something right and when you think you finally have it figured out, you find yourself tricked again. It’s not a stroke of bad luck, it’s not a bad choice that was made, some things are just bound to happen. And maybe in the same respect- some things are just bound to not happen. Maybe you weren’t ever meant to get it right. Maybe no matter how hard you try it wouldn’t change a god damn thing.
Why do anything?
I guess the point in doing things is to not get bored. As long as something is happening, it’s happening. And something is usually better than nothing so what’s it matter? If everything worked out I would forget to have negative feelings. And without negative feelings I would never write. And if I never wrote well then what would be my purpose now?
I guess what I’m saying is, if this is an effort to get me back in some way, I just want you to know-
You’re only helping me to be okay with existing. So how does that feel?
Sometimes I get worried about the way my head works. It’s eleven seventeen and I want to spend my vacation day alone getting drunk and writing madly in notebooks. I want to turn my bedroom upside down and cry and scream and ask myself questions I can’t answer. And I think I know why.
But more often than not I really do not. I sometimes wonder if I’d be an alcoholic if vomiting wasn’t involved. Thank god for my irrational fear of puking or I may have ended up drunk and useless every day.
I frustrate myself so much.