pathetic

Well, well.... what a surpirse. I am still fucking everything up. Behind with all kinds of work. Gonna lose all my assignments soon, most likely. I just want to hide away, disappear, have no contact with the world ever again. I’m in pain, and it is pathetic. I am loser of epic proportions. Why am I so paralysed? Why am I such a fucking loser? Well I know why. The real question is, why am I such a coward? I have no backbone what so ever. The only thing I want from life is for it to end. That power is 100% within my control. So why am I still here? Because I am such a massive fucking coward. Too scared to get on with life, too scared to end it. Purgatory. My existence is a luxury problem.

My existence is a luxury problem.

And I hate myself for it. When I walk the streets all I think is how I am separate from this world, separate in terms of emotions, separate in terms of dreams and ambitions, separate in terms of everything.

I’m nearly 36. WTF? I don’t want to turn 36. I really don’t want to turn 36. I REALLY DON’T FUCKING WANT TO LIVE!

I never feel in control of my life. Everything piles up and I am letting it, time and time again. It piles up until it feels so out of control that I cant possibly turn it around. Then, after much mental anguish and fuck knows what, i manage to pick up the pieces, tell lies, get everything some 80% back on track, only for it to start all over again.

Every day. Every day I feel like this. Every day I live with my cowardice. Every day I destroy my life just that little bit more.

Empy. Empty and grey. Empyt, grey and hollow. It’s unbearable. Because i am such a coward. Such a  fucking coward. I have no interest in life, I don’t believe in myself anymore. I am stagnating. I have been stagnating for years. I drift along towards the vortex of downwards spiral. I am pathetic, spineless, ungrateful coward. And I will remain so until the day I die. I wish I had the balls to do it today, to do it now. I’d delete all my documents, all my projects, all my diaries, format my computers, destroy all my paintings. I’d clean the flat, tidy and pack everything up, write a note and then do it.

But I never will, because I am such a coward. I am a bad person. I lie, I am selfish, I’m unreliable, I am untrustworthy, I’m.....

It is what it is. And here I am, behind with work, already planning the lies. I lie to myself, I lie to my family (and that hurts about as much as when I tell them the truth), I lie to employers, I lie to friends, I lie to everyone about everything. I am scum. Pathetic, pathetic scum.

I never arrange things, because I can’t deal with thinking about the future.I never arrange anything, because I don’t know where I’ll be, mentally, financially and everything else at any given point. And I guess I don’t trust myself. So nothing happens. I am paralysed. I am a pathetic fucking coward.