Disappointing Dispositions

I’m falling. I’m falling, and the ground will either hit me hard enough to majorly hurt, or hard enough not to feel anything.

I’m not exactly looking forward to either, as you can imagine.

What I mean by this vague phrase cannot really be said. It’s an action. It is screaming until your throat is raw, piercing your tongue for the absolute hell of it, crying until the rest of your body hurts as much as your heart (on your ex-boyfriend’s shoulder, to top it off), and falling asleep in nearly every class for three days. It is many things, many things that are the effect of a desperate mind.

I don’t think I’m being a very good person anymore. I have allowed my troublesome ex back into my thoughts, smoked away my anxiety, procrastinated with almost every assignment, and slept with someone who dumped me on the same day we had been dating for exactly a month. And let me tell you, it sucks to remember the person you were once and how disappointed they’d be if they could see the person you are now.

I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? Why am I passing with a D in Calculus and not caring about it? Why do I consider skipping school every morning when I wake up? Why has nothing felt right after my supposed “rebound” broke it off with me? Is it just that I’m a human being, full of mistakes and indecision, or is it that I’m turning into someone truly passing up everything in life that isn’t easy?

It’d be so much easier to think about this if I didn’t have everyone’s judgements stuck in my head. In the dinky town I live in, tattoos are considered by old people trashy, sex makes you a slut (but I guess that’s just high school, too), smoking pot makes you a druggie, and your IQ drops if you take part in any of these mentioned things. Yeah, I shouldn’t give a damn about anyone else’s opinion, I know. But God, the guilt can eat me up. Not to the point where it doesn’t feel good to do those things though. It’s this game of tug-a-war in my head: if I’m not having fun by being bad then I’m trying to swallow the guilt of not being a “good” kid.

I’m a fucking good kid/adult/person, okay? For the most part, at least. No one’s a saint and so I don’t pretend to be. I’m willing to accept the less pretty reality that people aren’t all sugar and spice; now why won’t everyone else do me the same justice?

I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that I’ll start to/keep mixing  people’s skewed judgement of myself into my own. Then next thing you know, “Hello, depression!”

So, falling. Watching all these things that could catch you and knowing they won’t. Some people in my life will never say, “It’s okay, I still have the same opinion of you as before.” Some will never again hold me in their arms, safe from any other feeling besides happiness. Some will never remember me, walk up and make an effort to get to know each other properly. And there is nothing I can do but watch them pass as I fall.

And maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Yet I still have to ask the world (and myself), must I always shatter after such a fall?

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About diagnosemylife

Okay, if I can't keep all this stuff about my life in my head, how do you expect me to shove it in this little box?

Posted on 10/11/2012, in People--The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, Who The Hell Am I? & Other Stuff You Ask Yourself and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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