There’s a little monster hiding in my rib cage. I’m not sure where it is but its hiding, somewhere, in there.
How do I get it out?
I’m doing things, I promise. But really, I’m doing nothing. (compared to my peers or even the greatly lowered standards for/of myself). So really, I’m doing nothing to help myself. I don’t have the words to articulate my thoughts, to share, or tell someone, anyone about how I feel.
This is not a marathon, nor is it a race against time or all odds. Instead, I very much would condense my feelings of despair, frustrations, loss and worry to the little monster that hides inside of me. Like a volcano, I wish it were dormant or even, extinct. But its also vastly wrong to classify it as ‘active’ – not quite.
Like me, the little monster likes naps.
So I wait. I wait and wait and wait- waiting for it to awake from its sound slumber so I can have my breakdown, get it over and done with. Like everyone says. But see, I can’t speak much for fear that it wakes and goes on a rampage. I can’t see the little monster, but I can feel him climbing over my back and trying to stab my heart with a knife called guilt every time my parents
scream at remind me (not so nicely) that my efforts are not enough, and I’m not bothered enough to try harder like the excuses I always make.
I know I’m not enough. I never will be.
I’m not quite okay with the idea, as much as I’d like to think or admit. I’ve somewhat transcended into this being without proper feelings or emotions to even care what I am, or will become after this.
Yet, I implore you. Don’t tell me that its alright, that there’s still time.
So I beg, please, instill in me, somehow, (the right) fear, not faith.
Make me care again.
found a letter i wrote to myself on 24/02 (countdown 240 days) pleading me to be better. there’s about 28 days left (i think), and honestly nothing’s really changed- i couldn’t be more disappointed in myself.