Why/why not/why the fuck not?

marilynminter_blackorchid_homepageI’ve always trusted my gut instinct when it comes to love and career. Perhaps that’s why I’ve failed terribly at both. I quit before there’s any chance of failing or succeeding. I curtail things before they come to fruition, before even the words ‘I love you’ has been said. Basically, I try very hard to not try, most of the time, a depressingly teenage attitude I thought I would’ve gotten rid of by 2016, but clearly not.

The times they are a-changing, and the going, it is hard. I thought I could last, this time round, but the old paranoia is creeping in, to distressing effect…

Sometimes (VERY OFTEN) I get nostalgic, and everything that has ever happened seemed like a beautiful dream. It wasn’t even that long ago either, but every fine thing that once happened to me is beginning to fade, leaving only the faintest web of scars….I guess that’s how it is when it comes to memory, even the sturdiest have to give way to new ones…

Arguments with parents (at this day and age, groan), truncated attempts to read my old philosophy textbooks, impending doom at work tomorrow, only the tiniest sliver of a perfect Sunday to look forward to – things are again, looking slightly depressing this season. Even best friends, steaks and summer-ish weather couldn’t save me. Where can you find an upper when you need one? Why are all the drugs around me downers, tranquilizers, stabilizers?

Looming wedding duties, in as soon as two month’s time. Time again to put on my uber happy face, the one I reserve for occasions when I’m particularly sad, and to slap on the face-paint, and up the meds.

Clearly, there’s not enough time to lose weight. Similarly, there’s not enough time this lifetime to undo the fuck-ups of the past. Why am I always so pessimistic?

Why is my writing so jumbled up and scattered?

Perhaps the answer to both questions lie deep inside my brain, where the faulty neurons probably lie (I always blame those pesky neurons when the going gets tough. They’re like my version of God). or perhaps not. perhaps I’m just tired and uncaffienated. Perhaps I’m just being me – the worst version of me, that is, to physically occur within these lifetimes. or perhaps I have always been a little bit dumb – and just like most actually dumb people I’ve never noticed till now?

Someday I feel like I need someone to help Konmari my fucking mind….


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