the mundane tales of a 20-something

where the sun hardly shines.

freeindie:

The Parish Festival - Celeritas

depression.

People confuse depression with so many things. I’m guilty of having done this too; saying “I’m depressed” because I’ve been having a bad day, a moment of weakness, or indecision. Depression has nothing to do with anything or anyone else. Depression is a selfish disease that rots deep inside of the person it has infected. It’s camouflaged as a result of a very specific, negative occurrence, which is why people think you should just “get over it” or “move on” and “forgive” but it’s really not that. It’s you who has this unidentifiable void that sucks you dry, angers you, makes you want to be alone only to suffer from that very same loneliness… It a malicious assault on your soul.

It’s also an embarrassment to those burdened with it. It’s stigmatized with insanity, suicide, and external displeasure, so if you seem sound, you’re not depressed. If you seem to enjoy life, you’re not depressed. If you laugh and smile, you’re not depressed… And those are the first people to go. Those are the people who really suffer because they have to hide, not only from the outside world, but from themselves.

I’m just tired… That wasn’t that bad… I’m fine, no big deal… I am so blessed, I don’t have a right to be unhappy…

So, why are we? Why can’t I enjoy anything anymore? Why do I keep avoiding the people I love the most even if it kills me with guilt later? Why can’t I just get out of bed in the morning and want to start my day? Why do I constantly replay every mistake, regret, embarrassment over and over to the point where I literally have to tell myself to shut up? Why am I so ashamed?

It’s so hard to hear when someone says that you’re suffering from depression. That you suddenly need pills and psychiatrist.  And even though they say “depression is a flaw in chemistry, not character,” it’s really hard to tell the difference when the only thing that doesn’t make sense is yourself.

inner peace.

i get so frustrated when people mess with my inner peace. trusting people is hard because you don’t quite understand what it means to trust someone. does trusting someone mean they can’t make mistakes? does it mean that if they do something - the same thing - to annoy, hurt, betray you, do you forgive them when they apologize “sincerely”? should you bite your tongue and be more empathetic, even if they don’t do the same.

i feel like i’m in constant survival mode. the moment you throw shade at me, i turn my back on you. does that make me smarter or make me “abrasive” and “recluse”? i’m so judgmental and you can’t be judgmental when you love something, right? does that mean i’ve never loved anything?

i really need to just get away. the life i’ve built for myself thus far is no longer sufficient. it needs to just erase, crumble to ground, or whatever. i want to be reborn because i’m tired of all the dumb shit that makes me uneasy.

starting over.

i’ve decided to start over. the original intention of this blog was to introduce myself. show the interweb the side of me i was not thrilled with sharing. the quarter-life crisis side filled with self-loathing and confusion.

i hate this part in my life and it makes it even harder to want to blog about it but i need to find some release. i feel like i can’t talk to anyone. OCD (Obsessive Comparison Disorder - something I recently learned about via a “quarter-life crisis” Google-a-thon) is keeping me from opening up about my fucked up life.

i know this is supposedly a phase in my long, wonderful (eventually) life, but it feels so real and permanent. i don’t feel as young as everyone makes me out to be. this is really hard, so yes, i’m going to whine about it, whether it helps or not.

lets make a quick list of all the things that suck:

i don’t have a career. honestly, none. every time i think of the amount of money i owe to the government, i want to kick my university where the sun doesn’t shine. the only thing college has given me is a receipt i keep framed and in my suitcase because i can’t find a place to hang it in my bedroom. the same bedroom in my mother’s house.

that brings me to the next suckfest: i still live at home. two opportunities to move in a little over a year and neither worked. one for a job with a location i loved (nyc) and one for a job with a location i hated (miami). i have this thing about moving - it needs to be 100% worth the move. i need to love where i’m going and what i’m doing, but neither has happened yet.

that brings me to suckfest numero tres: i don’t know what the hell i love, but i know what i hate. how frustrating to want a career so bad that it makes you want to take your own eyes out every time you have to work some shitty, pointless job, but at the same time, you have no idea what would make a job un-shitty and purposeful. i keep waiting for this perfect combination of things to make my career happen and my life to happen, but i don’t know where to even begin lookinig.

that brings me to the final point: i’m waiting. i feel so stuck and that’s the worst part. am i being picky? blind? stubborn? apathetic? did my chance already pass me by? why do i listen to my gut so easily when it tells me no, but i can’t communicate with my gut when i’m looking for a yes? it’s absolutely ridiculous.

i don’t have any answers, but i will blog about it.

complicated.

i think things that are meant to be should be simple. the more complicated something is, the more you force it to happen, right? you have to work so hard and that’s not what it’s supposed to be like.

but then there’s the flip side of that where they say you have to work your ass off to get what you want.

so what is it? do you push through complicated situations, grind your teeth, and force it with blood, sweat, and tears or do you simply let things be…let it fall out of the universe and into your lap?

maybe it varies. maybe you kick ass for a career, but breathe easy for love? maybe you let work come to you and work at love? it could all be so simple, but ya had to make it haarrdd…

mmhmm…lord, i don’t know. i feel like these days every single thing is struggle and nothings comes easy anyway. i might as well work at something and force through it than rot away waiting…but that’s scary. working towards something be it love or otherwise means i have to publicly declare my desire for it and that sounds like vulnerability…

ain’t nobody got time for that!

implosion.

mountains and dunes of sand rising high like tsunamis

over, over, over

it’s over - wait for the boom

all consumed like the lovesick

tick, tick

i love stupidly.

i know i do.

i don’t mean i’ve made mistakes in choosing how to love, but rather who to love. even that’s not completely accurate. i don’t regret loving anyone, but maybe how long i loved them, how soon, how much.

that’s why i love stupidly.

i’m not blind. most people love blindly. but i see, very clearly, who and what i’m loving. i make educated guesses about how things will go and how i will feel. i am a logical person afterall, so most things are evaluated with technical, mathematical precision, and even when the outcome is inevitably painful, i go on loving.

some people confuse this with bravery. i am “brave” for loving so fully, so wholeheartedly, but am i?

i have my doubts.

unbounded, unconditional, uncontrolled, unadulterated love is dangerous and foolish, but so uncommon, rare… i think it’s so incredibly beautiful to love that way…the problem is i have yet to find someone who will return that love to me. i also have yet to be mature enough to trust it and return it without fear.

i want to love stupidly and fearlessly.

i want to love like nothing else matters (because, in all honesty, nothing else does).

i want to want love, but never need it in the sense that i am desperate.

i want to love myself unbounded, unconditional, uncontrolled, and unadulterated (and this is the hardest love of all).

seriously.

you inspire me,
like the weeping willows drenched
in the warmth of the sun;
like a child enticed by play
and honey in green tea;
you encourage me
to dream
with my eyes open,
no fear of distant circumstance
and i am a fool unbound,
dancing like hummingbird wings
my heart beats with yours as
you inspire me.

elephants.

there are some people in this world, in your world, that will cross your path so vehemently that you will find yourself over and over in your thoughts about them. they will not simply leave their mark, they will reshape the mold of you, curve your bone-straight sides and smooth your jagged edges. these people will at times exist in the true form of themselves but will often be a figment of our naive imaginations. their love will be personified by experiences not had or misconstrued by other worldly emotions not understood or dishonored.

it is a shame.

it is also so true and so important. we need these people to disrupt and corrupt our lives so we can know something cruel and unexpected. we need these people to have desires and defenses. we need these people so we can know what it’s like to not sleep in fear of faces attached to eyelids and hearts to a metronome. life’s lessons are always sought in the aftermath.

25.

let me take a minute to discuss my age. i was TERRIFIED of being 25. i still am, to be completely honest. i feel like i had this plan in my head about how i was going to progress in life. i had deadlines, steps, ideas… i was supposed to be rich by now, all figured out, and settled. i was supposed to have this independent, freelancing career, with a banging car and possibly be engaged or getting there, but no.

the only thing i’ve accomplished is losing some weight, some mind, and a gaining a bachelors degree (even if it has yet to bring me anything besides sentimental value). nevertheless, i’m 25.

twenty-fucking-five. i don’t mean to be profane but i’m in complete awe of that number. a quarter century old and i’ve seen what this world has done in that time and what have i contributed? i don’t even know what to say to myself. i want to feel young, like i have time, but i don’t feel like i have my youth. i don’t feel like i have this unlimited amount of time to succeed.

that doesn’t mean i’m giving up. no, it just means i’ll push a little, i’ll run when i have to, and i’ll fail more because i’ll be trying a lot to find my way. 30 is just around the bend because 25 years felt like a two block jog.

did i stop making sense? sorry.