(no subject)

[shirato]

Wow this is, uh, kind of nostalgic. Sitting down and typing up a journal entry about goings-on or my thoughts in general used to be a pretty common thing for me to do, but it's been so long since I've been in that habit and I've only become more and more self-conscious of myself and what I'm conveying that basically this is just pretty embarrassing all around. Which, actually, is awful because I've always felt really embarrassed of myself in general, and expressing myself has always been a difficult thing for me because it is, well, embarrassing. But it used to be so easy to do in journal format; it used to be a pretty sure thing that I could let things out and feel like some weight's been lifted, I guess. Now I get so anxious that the thought of putting words down for the express purpose of having them read is enough to keep my fingers from moving. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've suffered with anxiety issues for quite a long time, and it used to be that I might not have been able to see it immediately, but that I was making progress towards functioning despite it. I don't really consider myself as someone who functions anymore; I focus only on what's currently happening around me, on the things that can't be avoided— work and whatnot— and that seems to fill up all of my time.

I keep waiting for a day with no responsibilities to set myself back into my old pace, even just for a bit, to do the things I miss doing, to talk with the people I miss talking with, and to just generally experience anything worthwhile. But what if I can't keep up past my initial attempt? The probability of just that occurring is way too likely. Even now, I'm sitting here sighing and thinking of closing my laptop because what am I even doing; I can't really answer it. I don't really have a purpose to anything I do anymore, I guess. It's been this way for a long time and I've known it, but well, it only becomes more obvious as time goes on. Sometimes I just lie in bed at night like this and I think about how this is really not good, how I am really not okay, and how I should really make an effort to fix it. And other times those facts are just as obvious but they're just facts and they're not going to change because I'm me, and I'm so limited as to what I can do. So many things are so impossible for me. At least, that's how it feels. And unfortunately that's enough to keep my motivation and my self-esteem from being practically nonexistent, if I wanted to describe it with an ounce of optimism, anyway.

It's been such a long year. A long, difficult year. I keep meaning to detail it in full but after all this time, the memories are already starting to blur together. And like everything else, it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Nothing I've done or have gone through is of any consequence to the world, and it's in the past now anyway. I'd say that it should be fine to just move forward, but that direction is just as meaningless. I feel exhausted on a near daily basis. But I go into work pretending to be a cheerful and outgoing person because I don't know what I'd do if anyone were to believe otherwise. Sometimes it gets really hard to keep up the act. There have been a couple of particularly rough days where I nearly started crying at the register for... not really any reason other than I just feel so sad and helpless and pathetic and other such things. I live with a consistent fear that someday I'll lose it and if I slip up just once, I won't be able to endure it.

I've made a couple of friends at work. It's ridiculous but I literally cried the day one asked me to hang out with her at her house. It was the step up from just being someone I talked with at work and... well, it meant we were becoming friends like, for real, and I don't know. I was, first of all, really excited about it. I hadn't made a friend irl in a long time. I was never very good at it in the first place. As far as I've known, I just sort of came to know people. I can never recall the instances that led to legitimate friendship. But on top of being so so happy about it, I was just as scared. I get by at work by separating myself and all of my thoughts and my emptiness and basically... Maybe it sounds just as ridiculous, but I feel like a fraud. I feel like a liar. I guess at work I play the person I'd like to be, but I know in reality how insecure I am and all the problems that go with it. People like me at work and people can apparently like me enough to want to be friends with me despite the fact that I feel like a burdening existence who isn't worth anyone's time. I'm happy about that. When I can walk into work and my coworkers can smile and wave to me and look genuinely happy just to see me, or when they're the ones to strike up conversations with me which is surprisingly often, I guess it makes my act feel less like an act. But it still is. I want to be happy, I want to enjoy life, and I want to enjoy it with others, but there's something heavy chaining me down to despair. One slip up is all it would take; that's kind of how I've felt my whole life. I don't give myself second chances, so I don't expect that anyone else would want to. Maybe that's the heart of the fear that takes hold of me? But I can't really say for certain or maybe I'd be able to overcome it.

There's probably several problems, though, and therefore there isn't really one source to pinpoint. That seems more likely. I think another big issue is that I'm lonely. I'm lonely, and I know how utterly obnoxious I can be when I am, and so I isolate myself, so as not to embarrass myself and certainly not to inconvenience anyone else with... well, thoughts like these, I guess. But isolation is hardly a good cure for loneliness, one should think. It's my cure for anything, now that I think about it, and that's probably saying something there. It only becomes more natural for me to hermit myself and think about how the world will keep turning without me, anyway.

I'm now sitting here thinking, what a useless bunch of words, and wondering just what it was that I was trying to accomplish by writing them seeing as I've found no new evidence towards a solution and all I've really done is repeatedly showcase how uninteresting and pathetic I really am. But I guess that was it. This was meant to be serve as both an apology and a confession. It was supposed to be a lot more coherent, but things always sound better in my head when I'm trying and failing at falling asleep. Regardless, my apologies are for being a terrible friend. I've missed everyone a lot, though I have been talking to you all in my head. I sometimes write letters in my sleep to people, but I'm too nervous and scared to transcribe and send them by morning. Really normal things, but I just thought it's been so long since I've expressed how much I care for everyone that I ought to do it. I wanted to get back in contact with people, I wanted to become closer, but I was afraid that I'd start something and disappear again. Instead of disappointing anyone, I might as well just not try in the first place. Life story right there, really. Ugh.

So this wasn't the elaboration it was supposed to be, what, three months ago? Not entirely, anyway. And it's so boring and stupid that maybe I should just stay hidden after all, but I really miss everyone and I'm an idiot who doesn't know how to do anything the easy way, I guess. I felt like I needed some sort of... disclaimer, maybe? That I'm still struggling between these personalities, and that it's really difficult for me to ignore this depression I'm under. I can't ignore it, but I've been trying to pretend that it isn't there. And that basically, this sounds the most ridiculous, but I feel like I just don't know how to act anymore /o\;; I feel more nervous and unsure about the most trivial things than I've ever felt in my life, and I don't know why but um, I guess apologies in advance for my awkwardness. I'm sorry this was so long and stupid, too, but thank you for reading this far /)_(\

I also don't know how to end an entry anymore so this is it