Everybody has bad days. Truth, but is that supposed to comfort me? Someone out there has it worse than me? Well then I guess I’m just supposed to stop feeling shitty about myself. Thank you oh so much everyone ever for the advice of just get over it. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself. Just because someone has it worse doesn’t mean I don’t have it bad. Everyone has bad days. But my bad days are worst to me.
I feel like i’ve said as much before.
Friday was a bad day. It didn’t start off a bad day. Thing about my bad days, is that they’re usually a slow, increasing tumble off a cliff and into shark infested waters. The sharks being my endless oblivion of anxiety and self hatred. That endless pit you have to brave alone because no one likes neurosis. I don’t even like it, so Karma dictates that I can’t expect anyone to have the patience for me. People who listen usually try to give advice, but you can’t. How do you tell sad people to stop being sad?
It doesn’t work that way.
It started with the lack of starting. On anything. I am an avid procrastinator- a fact that doesn’t really bother me until someone asks me what I’ve been working on and I have to say I’ve been doing something that’s just been taking up my whole week which is why my final project isn’t done. I almost lost footage. Yes, yes, it happens to everyone, but it is especially stressful when it actually happens to you! I ended up finding it, but still.
Then. THEN. For the third time in only a few weeks, I’ve learned the lack of tact everyone in my shop seems to have. At least the Marines. I wanted to say perhaps their quick transition from the harsh world of high school to the brutal world of the Marine Corps means they never learned the art of tactful truth telling, but that’s probably just silly hypothesis. Tact is really just about people in general. I really didn’t spend that much more time out of high school. Two years is a small amount of time and I was still in school, technically. I doubt I could blame it on their youth or maturity. In some aspects, they’re more mature than me. At least they think they are. Like, thanks for looking out for me, kid.
Right, so this insult I get handed to often is criticism of my voice. I know I don’t have the most interesting voice in the world. A couple weeks ago when I read a story, TK called my voice boring. I laughed it off at the time because I already knew it was truth. I’ve been told I talked monotone before. I was compared to Raven from the cartoon Teen Titans growing up. It doesn’t really bother me. I’m not expressive. In much of a lot of aspects.
Anyhoo, I think just last week someone else made a similar comment. I sound like I’m monotone. I sound like I don’t care about my job at all. How do you say that while smiling? It wasn’t funny and I wasn’t trying to sound like that. She elaborated more than I cared to listen to, but I still laughed along because that’s just my voice guys, what am I gonna do?
And Friday was the last straw. Diaz of all people. She’s kind to me. I’m sure she meant no harm. And she did apologize profusely when she saw how much it bothered me. She said I sounded like a robot. What was worse was that I tried really hard to sound interested in what I was reading that time. So my efforts when to waste because while I no longer sounded monotone, now I just sounded robotic.
I was excited to get my job. When I first got here, I thought of course I’ll sound rough, since I’m just learning the ropes. It’s hard to remember that I’m still new. I feel like I’m getting worse as time goes on and not better. Have I always been terrible then? I got compliments when I started doing stories. Were they lying? Have I just been horrible this whole time and only now they’re comfortable enough to start telling me? I’m boring, monotone, robotic, unenthusiastic. No heart. No talent.
And I cried again. I really didn’t want to. Why do I have to be so weak? It’s just constructive criticism. They just lack tact. They’re not saying it to attack you. They mean to say you could improve. You lack inflection in your voice. Put more emphasis on certain words. They don’t know how to explain the technical aspects of what you could fix. They only know how to give their opinion on what is wrong.
I’m okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s okay.
In. . . out.
Hahahahahahaha. Yes. Smile. Laugh. Take it with a grain of salt. I’ll get better. I can be better.
And when I am better? I don’t know why I’m so weird about improving. It means at one point I sucked at something and they all know it. I don’t like being bad at what I do. I’m already bad at fitness. I thought I at least had this. I don’t want to be bad at my job. If I’m bad at fitness and bad at my job, what kind of Marine am I? How am I useful? I’m not.
I hate that word. It’s my least favorite word.
Why do I have to over analyze the little things? How come every little thing bothers me or makes me paranoid? How are people confident? It seems everyone else can just smile and be confident in themselves, and they joke around with each other. I tried to ask someone how to be like him. Fake it till you make it, he said. He learned if he’s happy, then everyone’s happy. So he just pretends to be happy all the time. So I think he’s just a happy carefree guy but he’s not. I wonder when that not so happy part of him comes out. I think about it taking over his mind in his loneliest moments and I wonder what he does to push it back down and put that smile back on his face. Fake it till I make it? I’ve already done that.
I spent too long pretending.
And it got me no where. Especially after I had it for real. I think I was happy for a moment. When I thought I had escaped the shadows and I was making my own way. Real happiness. Not perfect happiness, but it was actually there. I think. I don’t remember all that well. It was only for a moment.
And it just became harder to pretend after that. Why should I pretend to be a happy person for everyone else? Because society doesn’t like sad people? I’m useless if I’m not happy? No one wants to be your friend if you’re depressed? Tell me why I should want friends like that then. I like the happy friends, I do. But I like the happy friends that make me happy. They’re happy for me and they’re happy with me and their happiness is contagious. I had that. For a moment.
And now I have to fake it. Because everyone else fakes it too.
I’m so fucking tired.
I don’t care about convincing anyone else about my happiness! The only person I want to convince is me! I can’t live a lie for you, I want to be happy for me.
Or at least content. I could settle for that.
I want to be confident in myself and my friends around me.
As it stands, I suppose I’m not the closest of friends with all the friends I’d hoped I was close with.
Perhaps people are only a group when certain people are around. It feels like there’s no real group here. Or perhaps I feel left out because I realize my tethers to the group are away? I hope I am just as close with everyone in my friend group, but perhaps within a group, some people are closer than others. And with Nick and Amaia gone, I’m not as close to the rest of the group as I would be. I feel like there’s no reason to invite me along. We’re a strange group as it is. What kind of attachment do we have to each other?
Should I see a therapist? Probably. But how willing am I to fix myself? Who would I become?
Most of me thinks there’s nothing diagnosibly wrong with me and I’m just wrong. So nothing can fix me. I’m just stuck with this mind because there’s nothing there to fix. I just don’t fit right into the mold. Whatever that mold is supposed to be.
Negative thoughts. I haven’t even started drinking yet.
No one likes to hear negative thoughts.