Here we are again.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Alright. I'm sitting in the same chair, making the same excuses and carrying around the same giant body that has made me miserable for so many years. I'm eating my feelings and I'm not saying how I feel and I'm insecure and making a scene every chance I get.
I'm saying things that don't matter and I'm bottling up the truth and then wondering why it doesn't get any better. When does this cycle of self-destruction stop? When I stop it or when I die. That's it. Those are my only two options.
I can be this miserable person for the next 20-30 years (maaaybe) before my knees break down entirely, my back won't allow me the luxury of walking, my mind perpetually numbed with sugar and starches and before my body completely succumbs to heart disease and I die. Lonely and afraid and resentful of all of the life I never lived because I was too busy trying to dull my senses and just coast through my days on a cheese covered Ritz cracker in an ocean of caramel and sugared soda.
What am I doing? Why am I doing this to myself? Sure, I can tell you that I've made decisions that I'm not comfortable with. I've lived a life filled with poor choices and have hurt others. I could tell you that those things make me worthless. That dying alone and being buried in a piano box is the only repentance available for me. But is that true? I've also made good decisions. I've loved deeply. I've been hurt and forgiven it. I've been both the sinner and the saint, as is everyone. So why am I so different? Why am I so special that I cannot make mistakes without believing that I deserve to suffer for them?
Certainly, I wouldn't ask anyone else to suffer for a few bad decisions here and there in their life. Not even an enemy.
So.. here I am. Desperate to start over. Desperate to move forward. Desperate to succeed, but mostly just desperate.