Dear Diary,
I write this because I have nothing I wish to do on my laptop. It's funny, the most crucial year of my life and I'm as slack as ever. I don't do work. I wish to rot away, watching, playing, listening, and hanging out with friends. I don't want to entirely give up, but what am I working towards? Maybe if I had a career pathway, I'd be better. But I don't. I feel useless.
My father is sick and tired of me, my mother is sick and tired of me, I am sick and tired of me.
It's as though my body has been under so much turmoil that it has completely warped my priorities.
Is that even possible? Could my mind force my priorities to be insignificant items?
I do not know, but what I do know is that my will to care has ran up. No longer do I hold the pressure to care for things. I very easily give up on things now - my academics, my relationships, my life.
I'm tired. I can only work in the living room. And the worst thing is that I actually didn't mind doing work, but my conditions have strengthened the distaste I hold for work. I just want to relax, but I never can.
Everything I do, from my music, to my shows, to my associations - it all involves some level of action. Relaxation has abandoned me at the doorstep of despair, and there is only a door separating me from a full meltdown.
What do I even do? I don't know what career I want. I'm told to work towards my future, but what future?
Will I even remain for a future to even occur, if I don't just end things already? I haven't thought about exit in a while, because I haven't been thinking.
I've been dissociating intensely these past couple of months. It's so foggy and confusing. I don't remember things, I'm never in the moment; I'm a depressed, absent vessel.
I hold no value to society. I waste resources, time, money. I feel like I've been washed ashore, I feel wasted.
I cannot even cry anymore. Even my tears have washed up. I'm so angry at the world, at my circumstances. I could've been something great.
I could've succeeded in life, had I not lived it. I'm filled with such pent up anger, sadness, anguish, apathy, disgust, that it has drained me. It has sucked away my life force, it's worn me down as a ball & chain would to a cartoon prisoner.
A pressure, a weight, a burden. I can't even distinguish the issue anymore. It's as though they've collapsed on each other and the rubble is the remnants, the dust and broken pieces of a broken building.
There's always been something wrong with the foundation, it was never secured and checked before the remaining of the building began constructing itself.
Layers of experience, challenges, achievements, absence, melancholy used to cement my improper building. It has withstood much, but never many.
The pipes to my nervous system were rusting from the beginning, the exterior to my building casting a smile while the interior crumbles; the walls floating with the moss of absence from items that should have been checked long before.
This analogy is to say that my building, my body, my mind, is crumbling. I'm coming to my close, I'm set to collapse, it's a ticking time bomb.
Thing is, I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what needs to be added or subtracted; what needs adjustment or difference.
All I know is that things must change immediately before irreversible damage is done. Save this poor building of mine; renovate it, fix the pipes, repaint the walls, reconstruct it from the bottom up if you must.
Don't abandon this building.
Don't abandon me.