Thursday, July 25, 2013

I want to be alone and I want people to notice me — both at the same time.

-Thom Yorke

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

You're fucking everything up Trish so don't you dare ask why if he leaves 

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Having recently deleted my twitter app, this is my only outlet to put down my thoughts. Those that as of late have been highly depressing. I am toying with extreme ideas more than I ever used to. Completely floored in the most devastating way by the intensity of such ill-feelings. I'm not particularly fluent in keeping myself together but I'm ashamed of the number of meltdowns I've experienced throughout this duration. I'm at the point where you no longer yearn for the pandering of others but you recoil in disgust for the depth of which you stoop. The depths of what you are drowning yourself in. Sure, I cry, but not easily. Yet I feel the sickening smarting of pompous tears gathering at my eyes like demons summoned to taunt; numerous times of the day. Can't seem to stop them nor resist their provocations. I'm weak, I learn, weaker than I've ever been. I feel so disconnected from my friends, family and myself. I take back all I said about JC life being a long shot from the complaints made by wrung-out students. 

I am that wrung-out student contemplating seeking counseling, at a total loss.

It's one thing to be frighteningly uncertain about the future, another to be losing grip on your religion, and a whole other story to have the two simultaneously happening while you watch the rest of the world doing way better than yourself. Comparisons are self-inflicting in nature but irresistible. 

Everybody tells me it's okay, I'll be fine, it's just BT2, but I don't know if the psychological scarring can ever be reversed. I don't know if this self-doubt can be wrenched out by it's roots, the land made fertile again. I'm in a daze half the time just mulling over these thoughts. I hate who this has made me.

It all seemed easy but now the option of retaking j2 may become a near reality. I can't stop thinking about how fingers will point to my relationship first chance, how this may actually be a mistake from the beginning, how my hopes for the future are dashed, how everything I touch loses its gleam. How I manage to fuck everything up.