the worst part’s almost over

I believe that, fundamentally, I am worthless.

It is the pillar around which I have built my entire identity.

It is the core of my insecurity, the root of the instability of my character.

I define myself by the things I do.  I have no inherent worth as a human being.  And now that I do nothing, I have no worth at all.

People are very audacious in the way they judge others.  It amazes me, the sheer amount of unsolicited criticism I receive for my life choices.  It would be easy to dismiss it, if only I did not believe that, fundamentally, I am worthless. 

So their words ring true. 

And I hate  myself for being so pathetic that I care what other people think.  But, to be fair, I thought it myself, first.  I knew I was worthless long before Uncle Douchecanoe came along and shared his opinion.  Before my sister’s coworkers shared their opinions.  Before my sister’s in-laws shared theirs.

I’m tired of people taking pointy sticks and jabbing me at the center of my insecurity.  I’m tired of being too polite to say anything.  I’m tired of believing them. 

All of the aforementioned people have expressed the idea that since I do not work, my life is meaningless.

Personally, I felt my life was meaningless even when I did   have a job, which makes me believe that I just feel my life is meaningless in general. 

Clearly, the only thing that matters in life is what you do to make money.  I don’t know what really DOES matter, though, because nothing  matters to me.  I spent a fair amount of time daily ruminating on this.

I watched The Hurt Locker the other day.  It was really good.  I’ve been rocking a crush on Jeremy Renner for a few weeks now.  This is relevant, by the way.  Well, not the bit about the crush. 

One of the characters says, “The older you get, the fewer things you really love.  And by the time you get to my age, maybe it’s only one or two things. With me, I think it’s one.”  The character in question was so fucked up that the only thing he loved was disarming bombs.  I mean, he delivered that line to his infant son.

The point is, I don’t have anything that I love.  So I’m trying to find some great, glorious, purpose, but I’m apathetic to everything.  Thus, my life lacks meaning, and I lack meaning, and I’m worthless.  Since just existing is not some great, glorious purpose.

I can’t think of what I love, I feel no real drive to do anything anymore.  The idea of going back to school in the fall is exhausting.  I don’t want to spend more money on another degree I really don’t care about.  I don’t want to drive myself further into debt, mortgaging my future.  Not that it fucking matters, though.  It’s already done. 

I always thought it would be some great trauma that drove me over the edge.  I have a list of things that I could not keep living after.  Like a “I’ll kill myself if X” happens list.  I figured one of the items on that would happen, and I’d throw the towel in.  Now, though, I’m faced with this endless…apathetic…half-existence.  Doing the bare minimum to survive.  No idea why. 

Despair is almost tangible.