Listen up sweetie.
We all know that you’re a beautiful girl in this horrible world.
In this suggestion of horror.
The portraits on the walls…
Look at their eyes, they always seem to follow.
Look at their eyes, they always seem to follow me!
Out of tune this tale of terror.
The solemn tolling of the funeral bells.
I want to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours
where everyday’s a Bone Palace Ballet.
Craig Owens of Chiodos… another amazing vocalist. It seems I’ve rediscovered my love for Bone Palace Ballet especially “Is It Progression If A Cannibal Uses A Fork?” The instruments are just so well-timed and nuanced… as are the vocals. Ugh… it’s just so disgustingly good, this album. And even though it’s from 2008 it merits so much listening all over again. Definitely very glad it’s still in rotation on my iPod. It’s currently fueling my morning and afternoon commutes to and from work. I require very angry/epic music when I drive I’ve come to realize. It helps me cope with any emotions and gives me a blank slate of emotion to work with after.
Anything even a little dark I’m into right now.
I don’t how to fix this latest MOOD of mine. Maybe it’s because I’m fine right where I am. But I know I can’t keep it up much longer without people getting offended. I just can’t get myself to want to be social, to talk, to listen. I’m shutting everything and everyone out. It’s taking a great deal of effort to try to be even the slightest bit social.
Ryan keeps emailing me. And I just… I mean, I read them. And great, that’s a lovely picture of your dog. Can’t I just nod and that suffice? I haven’t the emotional capability right now to be excited and I would never ever feign it either. And Raquel called again. And I missed it again. And and and and and…! It’s giving me mild anxiety. I know I’m ignoring everything and everyone. And I don’t know what anyone is up to these days because I haven’t asked.
But I mean I got a lot done (more or less… depending on how you see it…) this weekend without talking to anyone.
But then there’s the whole… why do I bother with anything at all if I’m just going to lock myself into a cage?
The recurring thing I keep hearing is that I’m getting prettier… LOL… (WOW let me not border on coming across as really conceited here.) But I mean I get it. I work very hard on my fitness… my body is becoming more toned. My diet is getting healthier (LOADING UP ON ALL THOSE VITAMINS, etc.!) so perhaps my skin is a little extra radiant. And perhaps I’m growing older, maturing into my looks so to speak. This is coming from… all directions… not just family, I swear. Lmao.
And yet… the “prettier” I get… the more dull my emotions seem to become. And the more I seem to want to lock myself in my room and not come out at all. Not talk to anyone at all.
I feel like I’m throwing away my energy, my youth, my vivacity for living… by keeping to myself. Like perhaps I have something worth sharing (friendship, a kind ear, a shoulder for you to rest your head on, etc. etc.)… but I just CANNOT get myself to want to do any of it.
I’m so far from depressed. I’m fine. I’m so perfectly fine that I cannot begin to explain this recent development. It’s like I’m afraid to live. Or… just don’t want to “live” (gosh, in the totally non-suicidal way)… I just want to BE. Alone. Yeahyeah. I know I like JUST said this a few posts down but I don’t know how else to explain it.
I’m just sort of stressed out about this.
Why exercise if the only one seeing my toned body is uh… me? How far can personal fulfillment take me before I start to feel depressed about how… useless my life is these days?
And at work… AT WORK. My goodness. I know I’m capable of so much more than they’re giving me. Everything they give me to do is SO EASY. Very little is actually hard to me in life (intellectually speaking). And so it takes A LOT to feel fulfilled intellectually. I get this RUSH when I actually have a lot of work to do. I ENJOY it because it’s the only sort of stimulation I’m getting. But it’s not even ENOUGH. And I start to stress out and worry that if I don’t push myself HARDER intellectually I no longer will be… That I’m wasting my brain’s ability to solve problems, think creatively, outside the box, react instinctively.
I HAVE SO MUCH FEAR that everything I have is just on the verge of slipping from my fingers because I’m not USING IT.
I’m not using my ability to listen to my friends, I’m not using my ability to talk/socialize with them. And the more I don’t… the more fear I have that I no longer will have the ability to do it.
I can’t tell if I need MORE or LESS right now.
This is a very weird place for me to be in. I have so much. But I know that I’m capable of MORE but not ACTUALIZING any of it. And if I don’t actualize something soon, I may not be able to later.
Like… if I don’t find someone to FEEL something towards soon, I no longer will be capable of feeling at all.
Like… if I don’t find my work challenging enough I will stagnate and no longer have a drive to accomplish more.
I’m incredibly scared. And… I just started crying. A LITTLE BIT. This is all so very confusing. I’m not sure what the fuck is going on with me. I just want to curl up into a ball under my bed covers and never come back out. But that won’t help either. Because I know I want things. I’ve always wanted things. But I think I’m realizing that in this moment all the things I want are completely out of reach and out of my control. I cannot just conjure a soul mate out of thin air. I cannot just declare that my work is not fulfilling me intellectually and “HEY BOZZ LOOK AT ME, I’M SMARTER THAN THE MUNDANE THINGS YOU’RE HAVING ME DO!” and etc. etc. etc.
Why I felt this incredible NEED to capitalize half this post, I don’t know. But maybe my feelings regarding these matters are just that strong. But there’s NOTHING I can do to fix any of this.
I feel like I’m at my peak fitness, peak intellect, peak “purdyness” according to lotz o’ people… and FOR WHAT? It’s not netting me anything whatsoever. Sure I’m fulfilling myself personally… but towards no end whatsoever.
This is a clear case of an existential crisis. Either that or I’m in complete denial of a high sense of entitlement. Whichever the case, I feel like shit.