lifeofmine99

[lifeofmine99]

So, here I sit with tears running down my face again. The collage of my life spread out in front of me detailing my every short-coming and failure. It's a funny thing having such low self-esteem that you don't want to look at yourself in the mirror; because on the one hand I loathe myself and judge myself for the pathetic miserable failure I see. Yet I have too much of an ego to actually kill myself. Perhaps I merely lack the gall? Perhaps I still have some tiny notion of the slightest inkling of a possibility that I might get out the ditch I'm stuck in.

Twenty-nine years old, overweight, unqualified, working a job I hate with people I can't stand, single, desperately alone, friendless and consistenly failing to do the things I know would make me happy.

WHY DO I DO THIS? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? WHY CAN'T I BE HAPPY TOO?

It must seem so obvious to you, reader, that the simplest solution to getting this shit sorted is just to do the thing. THE THING. THE THING. The thing that I say I need to do. The thing that would solve all of this. "Stop being a little bitch and get your shit together."

So simple right?

Start exercising. Stop eating chocolate and sugar in your coffee. Stop playing games and work on getting qualified part-time on the side. Stop looking for love and just live your life. Stop judging other people and being a dick. Stop pushing away the people who care for you.

Simple. Right.

I have told myself this so very many times. I have tried to unburden my mind with the notion of my failure by taking brief stabs at doing the things I need to do to be ok.

And I'm not asking for a mansion and loads of money. I don't have expectations that the universe is going to spit out a loving woman and a future for me. I understand that it's not that simple and that I need to actually work for the things I want.

But all I want is to be ok. I'm not asking for "happy". Just fucking ok.

Why am I like this?

I don't know. I could sit here and type out my whole life story.

I could try to explain to you all the reasons I could list for why I'm such a shitty individual. I can tell you about the fake personas I've carved out for myself to try to create the illusion that I'm somehow important or unique and interesting. The numbers of times I've changed my name on Facebook and demanded people call me by the new name. How I tell people I'm adopted because I want sympathy. How I left home at 17 with the assistance of the police because I couldn't stand my home life anymore. How I am haunted by the words of my long-dead father. How I hate myself for all the shitty things I've done. How I masturbate to the point where it's likely a medical problem. How I have such a porn addiction I can't get off to blowjobs anymore.

But none of this stuff is relevant. The truth of the matter is that I wallow in self pity because it's somehow bizarrely satisfying.

I can sit on my high horse and judge people for having all sorts of things from religion to nationality. Share countless meaningless memes on Facebook and get a little shot of dopamine every few minutes. Remember how I think I'm smarter than anyone else. "Look at me with my good grammar." "Look at me correcting your grammar on social media." "Look how I speak almost seven languages." "Look at how humble I am."

The sheer weight of the sack of shit I carry around with me called a personality is incomprehensibly large. I'm just an attention whore. Just fucking cuddle me please.

So where do we go from here? How do we fix this?

I don't know.