12 hours

Come midnight tonight there is a short story that must be finished, edited, and submitted properly.
At this point I have less than 12 hours.

I am filled with dread.

Long winded and nearly explosive dread.

I am doubting.

Abilities, thought processes, emotions.

Less than 12 hours.

Right?

Asking for help always feels weak.
You want someone to understand ... the end up giving you all of these excuses as to why you shouldn't feel the way that you do.
That doesn't help. It only makes you feel like a failure.
Why can't you do it right?
Just shut off that negativity and come with the rest of us to the rainbow pony parade!

Yeah.
Go blow.

Oh, it will get better over time. You just need to learn to cope.

I've been learning to cope for 15 fucking years! Tell me, when does it get better!?

When does it get any more easy?

Sometimes I cry.
For no apparent reason.
And someone will ask- "Are you okay?"
And I want to shout at them, I want to scream.
"This is just a shred of what I'm really feeling! These few tears barely scratch the fucking surface of definitely not okay!"

But that would make me the asshole.
After all, they were only trying to help.
Right?

Horrible Habits

It has been a habit of mine, for as long as I can remember, to set goals and never bring them to fruition.
Life gets in the way, yes I understand ... that is also the easiest excuse I can think of.
"Ah well, life just got in the way of me making something of myself. No big deal."

But it is a big deal.

I know this isn't okay.
I don't know how to fix it.

I have these moments of drive, where anything is possible and I am a powerhouse- indestructible.
Followed quickly by days (sometimes weeks) of debilitating nothingness.

I struggle to wake, I struggle to sleep. I can't stop eating, I want nothing to eat for days.
It hurts to be awake and have to live ... but what is the alternative?
And who the hell am I to look life in the eye and scoff at what I've been given?

I know something is wrong.
I don't know how to fix it.

Sometimes my chest feels so tight that I start to wonder, "Is this it? Is this the final moment?"
My body just feels tired, weighed down ... and more often than not, empty.
I feel empty.

I am envious of people who don't have this.
Green with writhing envy that makes me physically ill.

Normalcy is overrated. Some say, "Normal does not exist".
But I've got to believe that there is something better than this.

I just don't know how to fix it.