always so long

Sometimes, i wonder why its always so long between times of writing. 

I am beginning to distrust my emotions.  It seems like they go through these long periods of fine-ness, and then I blink and here I am.  Right back to this place again.  I hate this place, this place where I feel so inconsequential, where I feel like I am only worth what I can do.  I dont feel like anyone really knows me.  I feel like noone really cares to.  I feel like the only happiness I will ever find in life will be those short periods of time that I am able to ignore my innate sadness.  I am so hopeless.

I am beginning to believe that my dreams are impossible.  I feel like none of the roads open to me will ever produce that which I desire, and I dont want to change my damn dreams.  I worked too long and too fucking hard to dream them to begin with…  But  I will never be free of myself.  I think thats the problem.  I think i expect too much of myself and then become paralyzed by this fear.  this fear that I will not ever be good enough, smart enough, ambitious enough, pretty enough. 

Can I live without dreams?

I am so lost.  I feel all these things. I feel so alone.  I feel so unappreciated.  I feel like the world would be better off without relying upon me.  Too many people rely on me.  I do too many things.  School sucks ass, and I want to quit.  I will never have enough time to work on my art.  There are too many immediate things that require my attention.  Like 60 hours of work a week, since I have to bring home the bacon.  I make a decent amount of bacon, by the way… Not like it matters.  Its never enough.  Never enough. 

I work for a boss who is truly crazy.  Sometimes, he is the best.  He praises my work, he is clear and direct.  Then there is the rest of the time… Katie, I cant believe how inarticulate you are… Katie, I shouldnt be paying you so much… Katie, why did I make you co-director?  You are so inexperienced.  Enough work for eight people, by the way.  It will never be enough.  I will never be able to be enough. 

Family.  ha.  My cousin died.  I loved him.  But I had to be the responsible one, the sane one.  The one who makes sure everything happens right, and make sure my aunt doesnt drink herself to death.  I want to cry so badly.  But I have to be responsible.  Turn myself off.  At least to everyone else.  I wish this hole in my stomach would go away. 

I get offered a job doing what I want to do.  Too bad, cause it wont work for everyone else that has to count on me.  why do I even bother? 

I miss my daughter.  But its my fault, so Id better shut up.

I want my name back.  But thats my fault too.

I miss my mom.  But no one can bring her back.

I want to have good, healthy kids.  Too bad im not a good enough mother.  I try, but i dont think close counts.

I want to make art.  Art can heal me.  It can exorcize these demons.  It can release me.  Bring me back to life.  But there is no time.  Never any time.

I want there to be one.  Just one who thinks i am the sun.  I want to be her sun.  But i dont think that will ever happen.  She will never break away from herself for long enough to have to sheild her eyes.  Instead I follow darkly, in my constant state of eclipse.  Hoping for that moment, that moment that is so fleeting.  Why does it have to be so fleeting?  Why cant you gaze upon me?  Why cant i be it for you?  I hate you sometimes.  I hate your photography.  I hate your cold pictures, that lovely metaphor for your heart.  I hate the sound of your scathing voice.  Will I always be so displeasing?  Will I? 

My skin has grown so cold, in this winter without your breath to thaw me.  This is not your desire.  I guess I know that too, and I know Im not pretty.  Intriguing maybe.  But intrigue has a short halflife, and I suppose it passed long long ago.  This boiling smoke inside my chest, I need to scream it out.. bleed it out… cut it out.  This stone body I hide in, I hate it.  How I wish for a summer.  A green and yellow season, when the warm light of your touch can heat these morose cells.  These petrified organs.  I need it to fall over me.  I need something.  something not quite so transient. 

Maybe I am the one who is crazy.  Maybe I am.  Maybe when she says I am being rediculous when I share how I feel, or gets defensive, or just doesnt want to hear it… maybe its me who has the problem.  After all, who am i to bitch?  I just feel so invalidated.  I feel unfulfilled.  I feel hopeless.  I feal like my life has no point.  All I ever do is spend all of my time catering to everyone else, and not only that but they dont even care.  No body cares.  I am nice.  So its okay to run over me.  Im generous, so take all  you can.  Just take it all, because I dont want to be here to give it anymore.

I want to quit.  I want to quit it all.  I dont think that I have the nerve to actually do that though.  But this growing part of me keeps saying: "it will never get better… you ruined your life long ago… you gave up your chance… you have no right to complain…the only way it will ever get better is to start over…".  Maybe, just maybe, reincarnation is real.  Maybe since I paid so much, the next me will be able to have all she wants.  Im selfish though.  I want those things for me.  Too bad no one else does.

If I am so lucky, so talented, so competent, so smart, so nice, why do I feel like this?  Arent the good hardworking people supposed to be rewarded for their toil?  I dont want my reward in heaven,  I dont even know if I believe anymore.  I want things that can never be.  And I dont think I want to be without them.  So maybe I just shouldnt be at all.

it kinda ends the whole problem with failed expectations, doesnt it.