I know that it seems that I only blog when I have something to bitch or complain about. And that sentiment might be true. There is definitely some merit there. When things are good, I can find nothing to say that does not seem overly sentimental, contrived or…highly annoying. Who wants to read about how in love I am? Do you care to know how wonderful I feel in my insides? C’mon, it’s just not that fun to hear how perfect other people’s lives are. Hell, even chick flicks have some element of unhappiness to them. Sure, they end up with that fairy tale ending… but, I like to think that this story will end that way too.
That’s neither here nor there. Tonight I’m pretty buzzed. I’m seeing a lot of words underlined due to flubbed spellings or complete fabrications on my part. Yeah, I’m a little tipsy. But, I am relatively content. It’s been a good day. Sure, it’s been a non-eventful one. But, which days are full of any substance anymore? They all start to run together when each one fails to have any point or reason. I wake up and always wish I’d slept a little longer. The one highlight being that I turn my head to face the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Opening up your eyes to the love of your life is a blessing to be sure, but I still find myself cursing my body for granting me those extra hours to find nominal chores to fill them with.
But, such is the life of this twenty-four year old misfit. I’m this smart, *allegedly* attractive talented young woman who literally has not the least bit of confidence in her abilities. I feel as though without that degree from that esteemed university my self-worth means nothing–my skill set and stone-cold desire to achieve and please is wasted on the body of a fuck-up–someone who is apparently incapable of whipping myself into good enough fighting shape to knock out THREE MORE SEMESTERS of school. Fuck.
I don’t even know if I would be capable of completing my fifteen hour semesters at this point. I don’t feel any strong desire to enroll back at A&M and slave away every single fucking day behind a desk on the 3rd floor of Evan’s Library. As smart as I am, I’m also beyond paranoid. I wholeheartedly believe that if I don’t read every night, I will fail. If I don’t dedicate every free second to my studies, I will drop out or fall too far behind. That’s the way this shitfaced mind of mine works. It’s a big commitment for me. And in all sincerity–now the major issue at play has become that of a financial burden. I have 1800 dollars worth of credit card debt–in addition to the 50 d0llars in loans I pay back every month. Taking out more loans would equate more debt–and I don’t know if my little heart can take any more worry.
What job am I going to be able to find without that insubstantial piece of paper? Less intelligent people than me graduate all the time and that degree represents little more than persistence, luck, or rich parents. Should it necessarily prevent me from obtaining a career that requires greater tact and aptitude for knowledge than that of a retail employee or waitress? Save me from the mundanity of my apparent future. It is so bleak.
Honestly, yes I believe myself to be better than the bulk of the population out there. I have high morals. I have great respect for those around me. I treat everyone the way I’d like to be treated. I’m happy, I’m smiley, I’m the sweetest of sweethearts to those who earn my affection. I am a perfectionist and will dedicate myself wholly to being the best of the best at whatever trade I find myself in. I’m all in all a wonderful kid–and one who could excel at a wide array of careers. I could. I will suffer irreparably in a position of tedium or unimportance. My destiny has called for bigger and better things. It’s finding them that has proved to be more challenging than initially believed.
In addition to the above dilemmas… I have recently finally started to understand the sensation of loneliness. Prior to the past month or so I have remained a slave to the perception of fulfillment. I have believed myself to be content with my somewhat lonewolf status. I had my girlfriend. I had my family. I had my dogs. And I thought that was enough. But, then I unfortunately (or perhaps in the long run I will see this as a positive) began to seriously analyze my serious lack of “friends,” and it humbled me. I need people. I never thought I’d say that. I’ve been a wallflower for awhile now. I’d been more than happy to spend my nights curled up in bed with my girl and a movie–never tiring of the monotony.
But, I now lament my position amongst my peers. I find it tragic to realize that I have pushed everyone important to me away. I blame no one but myself. I cemented my place in suspended isolation several years back when I succumbed to the demons in my head and fell into a severe eating disorder. I neglected to respond to calls or texts. I refused to acknowledge my friend’s attempts to reconnect. I did not want to deal with anyone. And slowly but surely I lost all of their support and eventually their trust. It’s my insecurities, my shyness, my inability to be “normal” that got me here. And crawling out of a trench this well established will be difficult. But, this loneliness is eating away at my soul. It’s dulling my brilliant exterior.
Anyways, I just needed to vent. I’m feeling pretty hopeless and alone. It sucks. But, I know that I am the only one to point fingers at. Til next time.
Now, back to the vodka.