I want to cover my walls in inspiration. To write notes to myself to keep the gears in my head well oiled, to write "Wake up, because one day you won't be able to," on my alarm clock. To write little notes about love and beauty and despair on the way to my bathroom sink. My mirror used to tell me I was beautiful till the sticky note glue wore out. I don't want to be lazy anymore. I don't want to slink out of my ideas and leave them forgotten and dusty like the antiques on my shelves. But they are not forgotten, I was wrong in saying that. I remember them all too well, I just can't seem to find the motivation to roll out of bed and polish their tarnishing silver. I lack the will to make them shine.
But why? Why can't I get myself together and accomplish something?
I haven't even worked on my Art 31 or Biology course yet and I've been enrolled for two weeks.
I can't help but feel like a weak and lazy mess. I need to beat myself back into shape.
Mental and physical shape.
It doesn't help when it feels like my own "family" hates me. No. They don't hate me.
They ignore me. And I think, that is much much worse. The fact nothing I do is good enough, or satisfying or worthy of any praise whatsoever. All they care about is the fact I don't have a job right now, and they act like I'm not even trying. Fuck.
-L.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment