Losing It

I feel paralyzed of late. Sure this is the way to go, but also certain that it's all wrong. I don't know what to do. I feel like doing things but also feel like doing the exact opposite. I try to do things regardless of my feelings, but it just never works out. I'm not strong enough to do what I want and I want to fall into despair. I want to let myself feel hopeless and fatalist, but I can't even do that anymore. I'm starting to feel like I can't do anything at all. 

I think about what I want to write, and the things I want to convey, but nothing seems to come together. I sit here in front of the screen, trying to put it all together. Why can't I just enjoy the mess as it is? Why do I need to figure things out and do them proper? Isn't this supposed to be a game? I was always the loon, never the topper. Always trying so hard to be something or the other. Always trying to do something. Never really making it, or even just being at peace.

I wish I could just believe. I wish I could just try my best and leave the rest. But who defines my best? Isn't it when I couldn't possibly have done anything else? I try so hard, but I try more than I do. I just don't know anymore what I'm supposed to do. I wish I were different, but I can never escape. This ill-fated curse of being a monkey in a cage. I grow fat, I feel lazy, I eat until I get queasy. It makes me sick and I wish I could quit. 

Always putting in the bare minimum just so I can pat myself on the back. The last thing I want is to beat myself up, but what choice do I have? There's no one else around here for miles and miles away. As far as the eye can see, there's only misery. I go to work feeling miserable and scared. I come back home filled with dread. This endless fucking cycle that I just can't break. Does it ever end? Why can't I wait? Sometimes I wish I could just take it easy. Then my mind starts rumbling, and my heart gets racy. 

So desperate to win, so anxious and afraid. Just like the ones I judged so hash, no wonder karma's a bitch. I think about all the things I ought to do, and it makes my feet quake. Crushed by the weight of it all, I feel hopeless and depressed. I start losing my breath, struggling to take a step. Am I losing it all? Is this it? Every week I struggle and ache. Every day I huddle and wrestle with what looks like fate. I don't want to win, I don't want it to be easy. I just wish I could try my best and at least show up to play. 

What feels the worst is knowing I'm not doing my best. That there's no one else to blame but me, when it all comes to an end. At least I can cry today, if nothing else. Sitting here alone and miserable, knowing I don't deserve anyone's time of day. I don't even deserve that sweet relief of reaper's blade, it's better for a sinner like me to suffer and wail. The unsightly wretched screams from the wicked void of hate, aren't enough for me to atone for my cursed state. 

No matter what I try to do, there's not a moment's rest. For the unholy demons I've put on Earth shall feast upon my flesh. The worst of all is the belief that I'm not really special. Surrounded by fools and utterly alone, misunderstood. I deserve it all in heaps and pounds. I was never meant to soar in leaps and bounds. I'll never earn the touch of a woman or a warm embrace. Ugly and gross, useless and broke, I'm not even worthy of death. 

There are times in our lives when we all feel useless. But after a while, you realise, where your home is. If you close your eyes and run far and wide, still ending up in circles. After you find the same place enough time, it starts to feel so certain. Of all the things I dreamed up in my stupid little head, I thought if I could win it all, it'd do the world some good. Who the hell am I to tell the world what's good for it? I can't even leave my bed when it's time for the gym. 

Will going to the gym make me a god on Earth? Will writing my stupid blogs bring me closer to bliss? I guess I'll bloody never know, cuz I never did anything but miss. So go on then you little fucking devil. Do your worst and spoil your host, to your heart's content. I can't go on, I can't stay put, I can't even see what's good. I don't know how to be and I can't do anything right. I.... I'm losing it all tonight. If nothing else you'd think I'd get better at losing. But with each failure different than the last, how can I ever learn from the past? 

I grow lost and weary. I can't remember the last time I truly felt merry.