What does it matter, really? It was all over before it began

"I don’t know what I am going to do. I can’t stay home like this; it’s driving me insane. I need something to do. I need someone to stand in front of me and tell me exactly what to do. So I don’t have to think, so I don’t have to spend all these waking moments looking for an out that I’m not supposed to want.

I’ve changed. I can’t sustain myself anymore. I’ve weakened from all the pressure and now I can’t do what I used to do. The pointlessness of everything is glaring back at me more than ever. I get home and look around and think, “What now?” I don’t care if I have the job that people consider the lowest, I don’t care if all I do is work. They keep calling me in, or having me stay late, and not once have I protested. It’s better that I’m not here. It’s better that I’m not home. I tire of my daydreams of suicide.

I finally allowed myself to heal a little. Now there are pink lines instead of red, and some a deep purple, just everywhere, as though there was no rhyme or reason to it, only a sick kind of desperation. But I admit that I am throwing tantrums more often than ever. Tossing things into the wall (particularly in the freezer where I can’t be heard), or randomly sobbing when something doesn’t go my way. No one has witnessed any of it, thankfully. The crying is almost comical; it is literally over the stupidest most mundane of things. I want to laugh at myself, at how pathetic it is. Can’t live at all, can you? Can’t take it when something is broken, or the food you want isn’t there, or you can’t sleep? What a waste it is for me to even breathe sometimes, such a snivelling, stupid thing. You know why I won’t work the registers? I’m afraid I’ll fuck up the math. I’m sure counting coins would be too much for me. I’m just that stupid. Don’t even give me that responsibility; I’m sure I can’t handle it. My register would probably be off by twenty dollars.

What does it matter, really? It was all over before it began."

Source: http://lucienlachance.wordpress.com/