FROM THE ARCHIVES · LIQUID DEPRESSO INJECTION / W5
Mizerable
Filed under Commentary & Rants
No. That was not misspelled.
So another vent/rant. Feel free to ignore...
...I feel like a late bloomer, even though I know for a fact, to a certain degree, I am no such thing. I'm legitimate. I'm not trying to be anything. I am just being me, as hard as that is to accept oftentimes. But really...nineteen years old and only now...
I see pictures and read blogs galore of everyday (and some not-so-ordinary...) people younger than me or my own age and they're able to express themselves in so many ways through a plethora of mediums. Art. Body modification. Writing. Clothing. Music...You name it, I've seen it. I hate to complain or whine, and hate is no exaggeration, but...I feel as if I have nothing to express myself with or through. And what little I can do isn't...quite...how shall I put it...what I want? No...that's not it...but...well, I don't know how to explain it in words, especially written/typed ones.
The same annoying, horrible thought goes through my head: if I had been braver to accept who I was when I was younger...where would I be? Or was there truly nothing I could have done with how things have worked out up to now? Is it only now, at the oh-so "adult" age my mother keeps wonderfully reminding me I am, that I can even do the little things I do? Only now, when everything seems so far behind? In comparison to my mindset, I appear as...a...masquerade. A sham. I want to feel my mindset. I want to be happy.
And I'm not. Not in the slightest...
...Ah, yes...and about that, my lovely tendency to bitch...
I know...I know...believe me, I know I am quite immature, amiss how often I'll think otherwise. It's times like these I know for sure I'm not...and of course the other things I tend to do or think so frequently...
And yes, damn it. I am thankful for what I have. How shall I say this without sounding...
...But what I have just isn't...me.
Yes. I suppose that did sound very, very stupid and bitchy...immature...annoying...Brat...
...Oh, well...
And off to bed I go...
...And don't worry...the next time I see my psychiatrist, I'll tell Doc I need my new pills...though I'm not looking forward to it...I hate taking pills...but I can't do this on my own. Not now. Not yet...Anyway, I think so...
So another vent/rant. Feel free to ignore...
...I feel like a late bloomer, even though I know for a fact, to a certain degree, I am no such thing. I'm legitimate. I'm not trying to be anything. I am just being me, as hard as that is to accept oftentimes. But really...nineteen years old and only now...
I see pictures and read blogs galore of everyday (and some not-so-ordinary...) people younger than me or my own age and they're able to express themselves in so many ways through a plethora of mediums. Art. Body modification. Writing. Clothing. Music...You name it, I've seen it. I hate to complain or whine, and hate is no exaggeration, but...I feel as if I have nothing to express myself with or through. And what little I can do isn't...quite...how shall I put it...what I want? No...that's not it...but...well, I don't know how to explain it in words, especially written/typed ones.
The same annoying, horrible thought goes through my head: if I had been braver to accept who I was when I was younger...where would I be? Or was there truly nothing I could have done with how things have worked out up to now? Is it only now, at the oh-so "adult" age my mother keeps wonderfully reminding me I am, that I can even do the little things I do? Only now, when everything seems so far behind? In comparison to my mindset, I appear as...a...masquerade. A sham. I want to feel my mindset. I want to be happy.
And I'm not. Not in the slightest...
...Ah, yes...and about that, my lovely tendency to bitch...
I know...I know...believe me, I know I am quite immature, amiss how often I'll think otherwise. It's times like these I know for sure I'm not...and of course the other things I tend to do or think so frequently...
And yes, damn it. I am thankful for what I have. How shall I say this without sounding...
...But what I have just isn't...me.
Yes. I suppose that did sound very, very stupid and bitchy...immature...annoying...Brat...
...Oh, well...
And off to bed I go...
...And don't worry...the next time I see my psychiatrist, I'll tell Doc I need my new pills...though I'm not looking forward to it...I hate taking pills...but I can't do this on my own. Not now. Not yet...Anyway, I think so...