The Great Escape.

I got back from vacation last night and so, today, between my days off and being back to reality, I have been living in a daydream. I’ve been sitting on the couch for the past hour, neglecting all of my “back to routine” responsibilities (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), in favour of thinking about what could’ve, should’ve, and might be. I can’t help but feel like I am not where I am supposed to be.

It isn’t really that even, it feels more like I am not who I’m supposed to be. I’m going through a bad phase with social media where I look at other people’s accounts and compare my own and I feel like I look so incredibly superficial and boring. There’s no real content to my life. I worry that this speaks to a deeper level of dissatisfaction from the superficial happiness I have been experiencing.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it though. Go do what ought to be done, to start (laundry, gym, cleaning, groceries, etc), and then maybe work on re-prioritizing. But also remember that social media is not an actual representation of the ways in which people are living and experiencing their lives.



I just locked myself in my bedroom with the full intention of giving up. I was laying there thinking really dark things, I mean really contemplating things, ya know? I think in a sense it’s hopelessness, though maybe not really because there is some sort of hope at the end of this very long, very dark tunnel. I think the biggest thing is loneliness. I feel very truly alone in all of this.

I laid there with the full intention of just letting the night come in from outside and fill me up and take me away. I started thinking about sharp things, because that’s where my mind goes when I try to reach out to people and they don’t respond. No matter what I do it isn’t good enough. Crying for help is useless, shouting makes things even worse, silence receives nothing.

What do I have to do or say to get someone to care? Or maybe that’s the trouble. No one cares about me at all.

Rant rant rant. I keep telling myself to use this feeling for something. So here we are. I wrote about it, it’s used, and now here you are. Reading these words, of me at the end of my rope.

Now what?