Time marches on.

At the age of 24, I hardly know what life is anymore. I’m supposed to be enjoying it and making the most of it, but all I do is sit at home and wallow in self pity. I’m tired. I feel like it doesn’t matter anymore, like I don’t matter and I simply wish to disappear. If I were to evaporate as if I had never even existed, it would be best… I’d like to say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I want to die. I’m not sorry my dreams don’t matter to me anymore. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m not. I can’t feel anything but this disgusting, paralysing fear that won’t let me see past it. Like I’m hitting an invisible wall every time I try.

I’m so tired. I pretend a lot. I make my friends believe I’m okay. I’m a compulsive liar. I’m not okay. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay again. But to the world, I’m fine. I party like it’s 1999, I flirt with girls and cry over the one I really like, but can’t have. I fantasize about going back to school and finally being on my way to where I always wanted to be. But I don’t know what I want anymore. Some days, I hope to god I won’t wake up in the morning. Others, very few and far in between, I actually wake up and feel a little bit better. Not entirely okay, but I keep telling myself that if a said day was better than before, then ‘okay’ has to be somewhere around the corner. It never is. I can’t remember the last time I was genuinely happy. A day when I didn’t stop to think about everything that’s so very wrong with my life and how big of a failure I am. Have I ever been happy? No, really. I went to school, graduated, had relationships, problems with family, a shitty childhood, met my favourite boyband, moved to the city of my dreams, finally accepted who I was…. And I can’t think of one day when I was just happy. Not one.

I think that’s my biggest issue. I focus so much on what happened before, trying to find a moment of happiness, so I can finally realise that I can and should try to be happy. That I should get out of bed even when I don’t want to. That I need a purpose and motivation to fulfil all of my dreams, big or little. But I just can’t. I can’t even say what’s stopping me other than…. Well, me. I feel so disconnected from the world, from myself, from everything that once mattered. I’m just throwing it all away and for today, it’s okay. I can’t fight it anymore. Tonight I want to lay down and never wake up. Cause maybe, just maybe, that would stop this heartache I feel every day when I’m taking one more step away from what I want and what I could do with my life. Perhaps. Such is life, I guess.