My escape into myself ever continues. I could be wrong, as depression tends to muddle the mind, but the only real contact I’ve had with another since my last breakdown was two visits with a friend who asked for help cleaning up their apartment. Real contact, as in not just checking in or talking because we had to. Anyway, in both circumstances of my visit I was talkative and feeling good about myself in the knowledge that I was doing right by someone. In both circumstances I immediately crashed the next day, feeling worthless about all things and why I even bother trying to make right at all. Which is the case now.
As ever, my self-worth is dependent on my worth to other people. If we’re to believe the self-help gurus, it’s not supposed to be that way. While I was miserable through a lot of my last job, it brought me happiness while I had it. It gave me structure, income, and a sense of want which I needed when I had none of that. Then it disappeared, and the emptiness within me has otherwise kept me from really working towards finding something new that I desperately need. I’m failing, and I’m finding it harder to care with each day that passes.
The same ole story of finishing some things, letting others go, catching up in bits, making new promises, only to break them in the long run. The last time I felt this sick with my life I dropped everything, and that was Fall of last year. Getting ready to drop more than just extracurricular activities at this point, because I’m tired of being a constant failure to others. I’ve pretty much given up on even trying to commit myself to anything larger than a whim’s participation, because I’ve done nothing and believe I will continue to do nothing. No one needs a shitty person like that, so why even bother trying when I’ve been given every opportunity to the point I know people are straining themselves to be nice? But again, that’s what my head would say, and it’s as trustworthy as a car which passed it’s scheduled oil change by a month…*cringe*
When it all boils down, it’s really just the simple things I need help on. A concerned friend, a good laugh, a hug…these are things “normal” people have no trouble getting on some terms, and even have the gumption to ask for them if in need. And yet for some reason I don’t do that, and I mean outside of the fog of depression. Too much social conditioning has taught me to keep to myself because it’s too much a bother to even want the simple things. As soon as I want it I’ll just fuck up the process of getting it, so it’s really just better to not want anything and let the world run its course without fudging it up for others. Morbid as ever, that I am.
This has been another rambling bit from the madman known as Jacob, thank you for reading. Now give your attention to this Madison 48 Film that is downright ridiculous in the best of ways. Sure, I could promote the 48 Hour Film I actually worked on (and okay, I will), but this touched me in a very special place. I want it to touch your special place as well. Yes, creepy. Deal with it.