why roxy

Looks like my old friend is back. He always comes back.

I can’t help but think, what the fuck. Here I was, naively believing my thirties would be some of the best years of my life, but instead it feels like everything is out of my control. Like I’m just watching things unfold. No direction. No fucking clue. I don’t seem to fit anywhere.

Everyone around me is having babies and working 9-5 and I can’t stand the thought of doing either of those things. Everything I want I can’t seem to grasp. Every time I think of the future I see nothing in it. Nothing of substance. Nothing that satisfies my restless soul.

I want to be surrounded by interesting people doing interesting things. I want to create magic with words and have conversations about love and the universe and my deepest darkest thoughts. I want to make something of my life, something I can be proud of.

But I’m not doing any of these things. I don’t know where to start. Part of me likes to think I’ve already started and just haven’t realised yet. Other parts of me aren’t so optimistic.

So I guess I’ll have to wait, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, overthinking everything because that’s all my brain will let me do today.

Sometime it feels like all I do is wish things would happen, when I know it’s me who needs to make them happen.

What am I supposed to do with all these fragments in my head, bouncing around with nowhere to go? Why has my brain decided to turn on me, just when I was thinking maybe we could be friends again? Why am I even writing this, when there is no one here to read it?

Mental illness is fucked.

Up, down, and around we go, in a never-ending cycle of highs and lows. Just when you thought it was good, it was bad. Just when you thought you were happy, you were sad.

This feeling I have right now, it’s hard to explain. It’s kind of like when you cut your toenails too short. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it doesn’t feel good either. Does that make sense? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is my toenails are too fucking short.

I want to do everything and nothing at all. I want to make plans just to cancel them. I want to feel feelings and turn them off as I please. I want to read books and draw pictures and cook beautiful food. I want to watch endless TV and eat junk and sleep all day long. I want to talk, but it’s hard to find the words.

Some people don’t like to listen anyway.

I wonder what you would think, if you could see inside my brain. I wonder what yours looks like, too. Maybe we could swap sometime. I could see what you see, and maybe then I could see it for myself.

They say to get better you need the right tools. But how do you know what’s right and what’s not? What if my tools are all blunt? And what is “better” anyway? Not to mention that finding the right tool for the job is much harder than it sounds – what works one minute won’t work the next. Keep at it, they say. Be present; mindful. But we all know things are easily said. Or maybe we’re just too clever for their toolkit.

It seems like what used to be normal, is now upside down. It’s seems like a cycle that will never end; a ride I can’t get off, even when it’s not fun anymore. All I want is control, but it’s far out of reach. The balance is tenuous, and completely exhausting.

Sometimes I wish the ride would slow down, so I could catch up. Sometimes I wish I could be different, without having to change. Sometimes, I just wish for quiet. Quiet time to think my thoughts.

The good ones, I mean.