I'm Lucky, Maybe

I'm lucky...maybe.

I'm lucky to have lived my entire life differently, with a lot of difficulty, knowing pain and the reality of life at a young age. A life filled with turmoil, disturbances. I'm lucky, maybe.

Someone weaker than me would have collapsed by now, but no, I plow through. I leave the house when it's dark. I come home when it's dark, and in the time between, I hope to see the sunlight through haze of an unclean bus window or through the blinds of a frozen corporate office.

Too much abstraction? I know. I tend to do that.

In plain language...(This is a bit of an exercise in creative non-fiction, as well. My brilliant professor has always stated that every occasion is an occasion for writing, so I might as well run with it)

Feelings I had felt three months ago when I started my new job and grad school have not taken a positive turn. Dad had been dropping me off to work and school, but he began to be physically worn down from doing all of that. Plus, all the trips he was taking, to and from work and school, were getting expensive. I was tired of paying for the astronomical gas. In the last two weeks of my job contract, I resolved to take the bus, which is more or less, a 2-hour ride from home to work. I leave the house when it's dark and I come home when it's dark. I'm exhausted at work. Today, in fact, I was so tired that I felt like vomiting.

I'm tired of people telling me, "suck it up," and the like because no matter how much I can explain, words will never be sufficient enough to sum up the sum of my experiences. What I don't understand is why I can be fine one minute, and then completely shut down the next. There are times when I don't even feel present. It's a strange feeling. There is my physical body, there is myself, but it is detached. I see nothing directly in front of me. I hear nothing. I snap to again, only because there is a bump on the road and it jolts me awake.

Then there are my fits of high energy and I feel ambitious. I type at astronomical speeds and spit witty phrases on AIM. I do my work quickly. I am invincible. I am a star! Yet soon, the detached confusion sets in again and I shut down. For reasons I cannot explain.

On the weekends, I indulge in my vices. The drink, mainly. I spend money that I should be saving and I have nothing to show for it. There are sexual curiosities. I feel bolder than usual and I wonder why men find me more attractive at this lowest of lowest points in my life than when I was on top of the world from January-July.

2009--this was supposed to be the best year of my life and it had begun that way. I lost control of my life somewhere and I think about that cliche phrase "Why do bad things happen to good people?" Why? Is it because I sometimes say mean things, that I talk back to my father, that I've got a snappy tongue, that I'm not grateful for even having a job, that I'm not the shining person I once was, only the lifeless shell of me encasing inside, a rotted soul that deserves intermittent months of misfortune?

I arrived home at 7 pm. Reconstituted ramen noodles for dinner. Tonight, I think I'll masturbate to the remembrance of memories of times past to help me sleep, since I've been having great trouble falling asleep. Goodnight.

Remember November 6. This is the date of my salvation.