(this is a more fleshed out version of a rant I’ve been diving into lately)
Let’s do something new. I’m going to talk about me for a while! This is why you came here right?
I’m a wreck. Complete and total. Always have been. It’s not going to change.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I keep complaining about being tired. I sleep. A lot. It doesn’t help. I’m not really physically tired. I’m just drained. I’ve gone through so many extremely high ups followed by so many extremely low downs that I can’t even process anything properly. I need the world to stop for a couple dozen years.
One of the things that makes me a passible writer is (I believe) the passion that goes into my writing. (More so my fiction than my blogging but this one is pretty passionate so I guess we’ll see what happens.) In my stories when I write a character, I embody that character. I feel what they feel. I experience their lives as I clickity-clack away on my keyboard. It gets to the point where I don’t even think about the words I just experience the story. It’s a great emotional ride for me and I hope it comes across in my words.
I mention this because it’s not something that exists solely on paper for me. It’s something I experience (until recently to far smaller extent) on a daily basis. When I talk to someone, scratch that, when I talk to ANYONE, I think about every possible branch that conversation could go WHILE in the middle of that conversation (which is why I’m prone to interrupting, which I’m trying to quell).
Here’s what that means: Let’s say you, Dear Reader, are my boss and you call me in to your office. I’m cool with that up until the walk TO your office. On the walk to the office I go through a variety of interactions (I’m sure many other people do this as well), wherein I’m applauded for my efforts, or scolded for some terrible deed I had committed but was unaware of… *had I said something offensive to a guest? Did I look at a girl wrong and now I’m getting fired? Am I getting fired? I need to find a job! How can I pay for rent if I don’t have a job? If the internet goes out because I can’t pay the bill how am I going to finish my classes? What happens if I don’t finish my classes? Is this as far as I can go in life? Am I stuck now? Am I getting a promotion? I could use some extra money. What if the responsibilities of my job interfere with schoolwork? Am I stuck here? Is this as far as I can go? Should I quit? What happens if I quit?*
It’s exhausting.
Every text message is like that with me too.
*Oh awesome it’s her! I wonder what she wants. I hope she’s not irritated with me, why would she be irritated? Oh crap, let me retrace my steps a few days and overanalyze everything.*
That’s before I even open the message.
*Crap. What did she mean by that? How do I respond? Should I be sarcastic? How do I play this off? Should I play this off? Do I have a chance? Should I be asking that? If there’s a chance should I pursue it? If I pursue it is a no worth the price of a yes?*
It used to be that stuff like that was an underpinning to my day. Almost like a sixth sense that I had learned to deal with. Now it’s taken the forefront of my thought. My life is like a “choose your own adventure” book, only when you turn to page 81 for “turn left” you can’t go back to the previous page to see what happens if you turn right instead. I feel like there’s some shrouded figure hanging over me that mocks my decisions and slams me down as I poke my head up.
Nighttime is the worst. During the day I have distractions and things to occupy my brain. At night there’s nothing but me and the darkness. My brain spins in a sea of “what ifs” and “oh craps”. I remember things I forgot to say, genius comebacks, the perfect pick up line.
Every girl I’ve ever talked to (hi ladies, this just got awkward… I’m kidding, you’re not reading this) has lived vastly different lives in my head. I’ve been married to and banned from talking to every girl ever. From my elementary school crush to Kristen Bell and Olvia Wilde. (Let’s just play it safe, just in case.)
So yeah, I’m going to go back to the darkness now. I’m going to listen to Emery and try not to go stir crazy.
Lesson Over.
3 comments:
Hmm. I already knew this about you. That's why I always tell you to chill out.
I've only known ya for a very limited time and I kinda figured that about you. I'm the exact same way, but to a much lesser extent. Worrying about things you shoulda or coulda said at the moment doesn't help matters.
I agree with Julie, you should just chill out. :-)
In no way, shape or form am I telling you that you are effeminate. However, you have made a major step for *man*kind. Literally yesterday my friend and I were discussing the fact that as females, we overanalyze everything to the point of near insanity. We concluded that our ability to (over)think is what separates us from men who just think about the two F's and carry on their merry way.
It's actually refreshing to know that men *can* think, men *can* overanalyze. You're not alone because trust me, women do it all the time!
Just cheer up and take solace in the knowledge that the more educated somebody is, the more prone to depression they are :)
And because that probably didn't make you feel any better I'll just say cheer up kiddo, it'll all seem better in the morning :)
-Amber Lee
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