10 days.

Currently, I am in a state of existence, so I might as well continue to exist.

I woke up in a dark humour. I don’t know what exactly to blame for causing it, and I don’t know what’s under the surface. All I know is that I find myself stuck in a swirl of negative thoughts that distraction has so far been unable to manage.

My favorite distractions have put me in the constant and consistent throes of some over-wrought escape fantasy. I plan trips in my sleep. Text photos of asylums and castles and quirky road-side stops to my best friend. Re-download apps to help me learn (and relearn) three more languages. It helps to promise myself that there are only two more weeks plus change left and I will be able to breathe without the crushing weight of ill-gained responsibility.

I dread them asking me to teach math again. I can’t do it. I won’t. Even if that means not having the security of a place to show up to every day.

It’s so easy for me to give in to my feelings of failure and inadequacy. Not that that’s anything new or unprecedented–it just seems to be easier to be hard on myself when I have such a tableau of insecurities to choose from nowadays. Shall I beat myself up over the fact that I am still not highly certified? Or maybe the fact that I have not yet purchased my own vehicle and still borrow one of my parents’–hell, that I still (gasp) live with my parents at the ancient age of 25? It’s been a while since I’ve stared in the mirror and thought about how much of a deformity my nose is, or how not-blindingly-white my teeth are, or–just for fun!–how I’ve gained back ~20 of the 40 pounds I lost last year because I have had no self control when it comes to food. #JustMentalIllnessThingz

You’ll have to forgive me for being flippant. I know it’s not funny. I know it’s not cute. Chalk it up to a coping mechanism.


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