Sometimes I wonder if anything's worth doing. I wonder if I have a drive for anything that's not all bright colours and happy sounds; a drive for anything important. It doesn't seem like it. Given many second chances I'll scuff them all and come back for more. I feel like I don't grow as a person, but rather get more and more expectations stacked on me when I feel like I'm drowning already. Drowning. I wish I could just drown in shame and have it over with but no, it's got to be an arduous, long, drawn-out process. I've been entrusted a task and I've failed to come through. Again. Tomorrow I'm going to walk into an office and disappoint someone. The anticipation is terrible. The disappointment is pretty much a forgone conclusion, but the fact that a good twelve hours remain until then that I'm unable to use effectively makes it worse.
The contemplation on where to move next from here begins eating up the next few precious hours and my conscience screams that I have to make a difference, but I have to struggle to bring myself to care. I don't know what I'm fighting for. Maybe it's the physical darkness around me, but I just can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know it's there- I've heard stories and seen people touched by it, but I feel like I'm going to keel over and die before I make it there. My motivation comes and goes, angry defiance against the reality of the situation followed by crippling hopelessness and then back to anger, all spinning in my stomach. My gaze flips between tears of frustration and a hard yet brittle stance of determination. I just want out. I want it to end.
This behaviour is shameful. I know we all have our burdens and struggles, each person has their own fishbowl of problems to live in, but this is a self-made hell. I want desperately for someone to pull me out, to save me somehow, but I know that's not how it works. Getting pulled out is pointless if you can't breathe on your own. I need to learn how to climb out but I don't know how. Or maybe it's that I don't want to? They say you can't have your cake and eat it too, but I try so often to make it true. My promises of improvement are empty words, spawned from short-lived hope, made all the more hollow from wearing them thin. It's embarrassing, and in trying to hide my shame I shut out those few who might be able to help.
I want a do-over. I want a grand reset button to try this all again. It's no use though. I know I'd still do this all again. Sloth in making the hard choices means that you slide to whatever life has left for you. Sometimes I wish I could just quit life. I don't mean I want to die per se (though the thought crosses my mind with alarming frequency), but this thing called life... I sometimes wish it had never been given to me. It's a joy and blessing, and I really love being alive sometimes, but the rate at which I muck things up makes me wish someone else had been here instead.
Ah well. I didn't make this life, I was given it for free. I certainly can't return it. It's not my right to reject it or complain about how it's turned out. I have made my mistakes though, and those are my responsibility to clean up. I've only got one life to live, and someone's got to live it. May as well be me.