I don’t have much work.
I ‘m looking for work, but in the comfort of my room. I keep my figurative door open for opportunities while my literal door is closed.
A perfect day for me is hitting the trifecta – read, write and workout. I keep my hopes up but lately have set my bar low. I’ve settled for read even a page, write at least my journal and five squats as workout. But I have touched on all three just once since this year.
I wanted to begin this year in peace. My only decision was not have an hangover or get alcohol poisoning, so I decided not to drink. Yet my New Years started with food poisoning and you know what. If you want me to spell it I will but you definitely dont want to smell it.
Anyways three days bedridden, I was still motivated to do better. What is better though?
Money? That would certainly improve my lifestyle. But how much would be enough?
The real reason I came here is because, I’m wasting my energy on keeping me alive. I have no one to talk to and that has been my own becoming. I have brought this upon myself. I can complain why aren’t others any good or why they don’t make a effort – but I have no rights to do so. Everybody has their will.
I can only look into myself. Why am I not doing anything worthwhile? But I don’t know what else I should be doing. For someone who wants to be designated as a director, ironically I lack the sense of direction. I’m sad. That’s no excuse. I have no reason. I have a little will that is being tested on a daily basis. I fail everyday. I’m angry. I’m bitter. I’m not envious. But resentfull. I can’t have excuses, I can’t complain about others or myself. I can pity myself and that won’t help either. Poor me, oh poor me. What else can I do?
Runnign on a track, I’m not the tortoise. The past is long gone, the future has caught up. I’m idle somewhere while the track keeps moving. I’ve given up already. I know I have. I make no effort. I hardly move. I know I should be doing things. I should be disciplined. I should be an acheiver. A winner. No I’m a loser. A no gooder. I’m angry. On myself. I can punish myself, but I’m already punishing myself. I could get out of this shithole. I can walkaway from this darkness. This looming despair. I could do anything. But for what.
I wish it would be easy- giving up. I could just be gone. All this would vanish. I would be bothering people a bit, but they will endure. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’ go on.
Instead I’m wasting my time and yours.