The days cycle, without end. Blurring at the edges I play pretend at living as an adult. Some days I’m excellent at the game. Some days I lose.
There are so many things I want to be good at… I could be good at. I lack the will to put in the work and so… I… float. Like a jellyfish.
The lows turn into highs that I feverishly (and foolishly) climb… only to fall down the other side again. And on and on it goes…
I crave connection. I find it hiding in unlikely places, but it always burns out eventually.
Would that I could be a real jellyfish. Blissfully brainless, floating.
To sort through the mess of the mind requires motivation. I come up short. Always. What I lack in substance I make up for with words.
So. Many. Words.
Useless. Taking up space. More shit to sift through. Where do people find the energy to be over achievers?
Validation. Validation. Validation.
I think I’m brilliant, but do you? Do you?
I think I’m nothing… do you?