It is unsettling, coming to the realization that almost all my creative work

happens when I am in pain. Nearly every poem stems from the hurt of losing

the only person I have ever loved, and you know what? that pisses me off.

Why wasn’t I driven to write poems about when I was happy? whether with her, or

about other aspects of my life!

Even when I have done other kinds of writing, it usually came in spurts as I

would try to rally myself from a long period of depression.

I want to have the energy and desire to write because it makes me feel good,

because the things I want to share make me happy, not just as a way to unload

all this damn anger and frustration and sadness.

I realize now, looking over the course of my life, that I am exactly like my

Father. So much anger and need to control, and a coward who ran away from his

problems by drowning in alcohol. I do not drink, but I am just as much of a

coward. Instead of alcohol, I run away from my emotional issues by impulsively

doing things I know will sabotage whatever forward progress I am making in my

life. Whether that is by attempting to get attention from other girls to make

myself feel better and ruining my relationships with the people I love, spending

money on things I do not need and never advancing forward monetarily, wasting

all my time on stupidities instead of doing the things I know I need to be happy

and healthy. It is a vicious cycle.

I hesitate to call it depression, this constant killing of my own spirit,

but it certainly feels that way most days, as I desperately try to convince

myself to get out of bed, just exhausted by life. I try so hard to put on this

happy face wherever I go and enjoy the little things, but mostly I just want to

curl up in a little ball and die.

I am not suicidal in the least, but just going to sleep and not waking up seems

so..comforting. But I still have this incessant voice in the back of my head

that would never allow me to do that, too damn easy, too damn cowardly.

I know I have the strength of will to be more, I am just so tired all the time.

I don’t even know where the hell I am going with all of this.

Rant over.

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