eek.

I am tugging at the collar of my shirt uncomfortably. I am clicking a pen over and over, and I am trying to find hollow, temporary comfort in words that are not my own. I am tired. I am so tired in mind, body, and spirit.

I genuinely do not know how to find the strength to be the person who handles herself with confidence and silliness.That is who people expect me to be because that is the person I used to be. Some days, I manage a shoddy version of it, but most days, I feel as useless as other people should think I am. I used to be charming. I used to be charming and I used to be brave. I used to be so beautiful in so many ways, and I wasted that time as a stupid little teenager trying to find meaning in textbooks and boys who treated me poorly.

I guess that was the way to spend high school, and it's entirely not unique to me. It passed by quickly and nothing remarkable happened. Nothing remarkable has become of me thus far.I have a full-ride scholarship. I'm going to go to college for free because I got grades that made me stand out among over 500 people in total who applied for that same scholarship. I will never, not once in my life, have to worry about paying off student loans. While I recognize that this is entirely remarkable in itself, I cannot find a reason for it anymore. I cannot find a reason for much anymore. Unremarkable I remain.

On nights like this, it is very difficult for me to see myself as anything but this weak frame of a person that has been hollowed out like a jack-o-lantern. I am no longer any of my redeeming qualities. I am not funny, I am not smart. I am not beautiful or bold. Instead, I am afraid. I am terrified, actually, and that is who I am now. That is what my personality has become. I am unlovable, irrational, and I have been twisted into this pitiful version of the beautiful, vibrant person I used to be. I'm a palette of pastels when I used to be tie-dye. (I guess that's okay, though. Tie-dye isn't really in style anymore.)

And it makes me want to throw a fit. I want to stomp through my house and slam my door, and I want to break things out of frustration because dammit it is not okay for me to be like this. It is not okay for me to be who I am now because I want to scream that it isn't who I am supposed to be. But it's taken over my entire personality by making it exhausting to put forth any effort into anything else. This is not the version of me that I like. This is not the version of me that anyone should love, and it makes me angry that people still care about me because, sooner or later, they're going to realize that their efforts are null and void; I have a real problem, and they can't help me. And they won't want to be around me anymore. Why would they? Why should they? I'm not the kind of person right now that forwards anyone in their lives. I've become parasitic. I am needy and sooner or later I'll be unwanted.

Some days, I'm good. Excellent, even. Some days, I get out of bed and I feel okay and I go spend my time with friends or at work and it's great to be alive and everything is okay because I am okay and the world is spinning just like it's supposed to and god it feels so good. But those days are becoming the minority. Every day, I am in a constant battle with myself. Some are easier than others, but somewhere within me, there's always a feeling of this horrific powerlessness over my own mind.

I talk as if my life is over, and I recognize that it's hardly even begun yet. But recognizing is not the same as feeling. I recognize that nothing has changed in my world. Gravity works the way it is supposed to work. I will scoop ice cream again tomorrow. It's unexciting, really. But I, who has always prided herself on the ability to look at the bigger picture, cannot see into a future where I do not feel as hopeless and on the verge of giving up (Giving up on what, exactly? Fuck if I know. I think this is just a phrase people use for effect.).

I really hope that there are better nights ahead of me.