nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

[behindthec]

what the cut text says. you've been warned. eta: this is all very incoherent and jumps around b/c if i did this properly i would write about sixty pages, and so i'm trying to fit all the important bits into this little blog before bed b/c i just can't keep it all inside anymore. i'm not writing this to get attention; i just need it for myself and if anyone gets anything out of it, then all the better; i don't want to keep myself to myself if someone's really interested.

the plan was simple, finish pwf and everything changes, no more life lived in fandom. i start eating healthy, working out, cooking food (LEARNING how to cook), read books and play music every day, and any free time at work i can use for fandom/writing, but that's all. i even looked up yoga classes on campus b/c they're free for alumni and i looked up "100 books everyone should read" because, i don't read. i don't enjoy it. i never have. i don't connect to people, so why would i connect with people on a page, who don't even exist? (fandom obv is different b/c it's based on reality *and* fantasy in a very scientifically specific blend; we read fanfic to escape, and i can't escape with characters i'm not already invested in -- hence, i always see movies first, then read the book. maybe i'm lazy. maybe i'm just visual. idk.) so i'm forcing myself to read? idek. it makes something that feels like furious inadequacy boil in my stomach when i see a guy however many years younger than me who DIDN'T go to college and graduade summa cum laude tyvm, writing lyrics that quote books i've never read. so there's the tip of THAT iceberg and my i-want-ryan-ross's-life-even-though-i-really-don't-like-the-guy-at-all, like really, i don't, and that must say something about my self esteem. plus there's the whole issue of the fact that i am well aware that any life i think i want, i know if i had it, i'd want a different life.

and so pwf's done so today i did that, or started to, and it was all fine, i can certainly have discipline when i want, i used to be anorexic after all. so i did mostly everything right, and then i spend an hour crying on the bedroom floor. like serious, puppy-whine crying. it sounded so incredibly pitiful. i've been crying a lot for days, but this just sounded so pitiful.

i can't do it. i am so, so fundamentally averse to human existence (eta: is this the basis for my rampant heterophobia?), especially my own, that i cannot even force myself to pretend that i want to improve my life. because the kicker is, i am utterly and mind-blowingly terrified that i will do all of this -- become well-read, learn to do the things i want to do, become expert at music, even WRITE music, maybe even write a real honest to god book and get it published like all my minions are begging me to do... and my FEAR IS, that all that would happen, and i would still be as unhappy as i am now. so why bother trying?

and the truth is that's probably RIGHT, because if i learned anything from zen (why did i stop studying it? just, abruptly, right when it was becoming useful?), it's that if you cannot learn to be content with your life as it is now, you will always struggle. you will never find what you want. you *have* to learn the art of accepting any circumstance, or you will always be dissatisfied, always wanting more.

i guess my biggest problem is that all of this depresses me too much to do anything about it. i know things could be done. i know yoga helps. i know i've been in better places than this, and that i brought myself there. but sometimes i wonder if it was real. so yoga and meditation clears your mind, but is it really just another form of being brain-dead? i mean, most hardcore depressives will give the argument that THIS is the real, honest state: misery is where the truth is. suffering. and the non-depressives and shrinks say, no, no, that's the lie! that's the depression talking! but really, buddha speaks of suffering. the eightfold path, the four truths, that is BASED on suffering! only through suffering can we find the truth. bingo. buddha's not dumb, yo.

but the thing is, i've been depressed for so long, upwards of 12 years now, and there have been ups and downs but overall it's gotten worse. aging has not helped. i feel enslaved by the constant forward-movement of time. it's like i keep screaming no, no, stop, wait, i'm not ready, and it just doesn't listen. and here i am, twenty-six years old and my life is absolutely nothing, and YET, what is it "supposed" to be? am i supposed to be a famous rock star, or a famous writer? okay, the famed alcoholic writer is not a cliche for nothing. and rock stars turn to drugs because they... taste yummy. is it me? is it my curse to be unhappy in any life?

and i just keep wondering, how much longer i'll be able to take this. if i'll end up killing myself, or end up utterly numb, catatonic, not even able to get out of bed and go to work.

this probably doesn't make much sense. i wish constantly that there existed some kind of supertechnology where we could "back up" like on a disc, our souls, our emotions, our brains, and then others could download them, so we would all know each other as well as we know ourselves. is that too much to ask?

my one shred of self worth that i enjoy clinging to is the fact that i write as well as i do and yet i can count on one hand the number of books i've read of my own will in the past decade. since most great writers learn from extensive reading, i guess i've got some special talent. or something. too bad it's "wasted" here, only i don't honestly FEEL that way; i feel like it's just the world telling me i should. that fanfic is a waste of talent. i wish it could be enough that all of you tell me how amazing i am, over and over, that i'm the best you've seen, the best you've read ever. and see, there, i know, if that isn't enough for me, what ever will be?!

seriously, how do you practically apply the cliche of "you have to love yourself first"? um, easier said than done, much?

my fingers hurt or i would probably go on for a very long time.

i feel obnoxious and snooty disabling comments, so i'll leave it open. but i can't promise i will respond. always know they are read and appreciated. i'm just not up to responding in an open forum. you can always find me via email if you feel compelled.

thank you all for so many smiles every day, no matter the context or the source.