Soliloquy

What I think about myself

I’m twenty-five years old. I know a little about a lot. I’ve been going to community college for far too long. I’m now a math major. I don’t know what I’m doing. I work full time. I have anxiety and depression. I’m also a closet recluse I have the appearance of being at least somewhat outgoing but I’m a homebody’s homebody. My best friend is my mom. I have one friend I talk to regularly on Instagram and one friend I message on my phone. I travel to work to school to home and rarely if ever go out besides needing to go grocery shopping or catching some sunlight. I do most of my shopping online. I’ve only ever had one girlfriend and one (the same) sexual partner. I’m extremely unqualified to communicate with other people. I don’t have a driver’s license and I have no ambition to receive one even though I know I need one.

I have a terrible self-image of myself. I try to be friendly and warm while maintaining my distance. I don’t know how to be close to people.

These aren’t excuses or requests for pity they are simply the way I currently am.

My father was an alcoholic and was never around he left home when I was in the middle of my adolescence and once before that. I’ve never really had a male role model. I don’t really know what it is to be a man or what a man is supposed to be. I only know what a father isn’t supposed to be. I did learn he always had the best intentions and he himself had a hard life without a father. He just couldn’t over come his vices and demons at the time. He eventually did sober up through his faith and have a small (important) part of my life. Then he died of liver cancer about a year and a half ago.

The actions of my parents affected me in ways I never realized until recently. I constantly blame myself, shame myself, and guilt myself about things that should have been done or that I have done wrongly.

I’m a very angry person most people would dismiss that statement immediately because I’m so passive, patient and generally compassionate. I have a lot of repressed emotion a lot of swallowed sadness and buried rage. But those dead men won’t lie dead and now they’ve become demons that try to take over my head. I’m not really sure why I’m writing these days. I don’t question the way I am. I just want to know why I can’t undo the damage that was done even though I’m aware of it. I want these demons off of my back. I want to be able to feel twenty-five going on twenty-six not twenty-five going for a heart-attack at thirty.

Maybe I’m just tired and I’m too scared to talk about it to my overly worried mother. She knows me as a troubled kid. I tend to go back and forth trying to contrast the child in me versus the man-child I’ve become. I’m always trying to look into the past that I can’t really remember anymore. I can’t remember anything before graduating high school no matter how hard I try. I only recall feeling left-out anxious and unwanted. Maybe, I pushed that out of my memory because it was a tough time for me.

I lead a quiet life of nonchalance with humility. I find small moments of joy and little bits of clarity. I play a lot of online games. I cry a lot these days. I laugh often at my own jokes because I’m so used to not having anyone around. You might consider it sad but I find myself in good company alone. I’m lonely at times. I write poetry. I’ve started to doodle and paint. I’m always thinking and hardly ever having a blank moment. I’m into philosophy and what it means to be human. I find it hard to relax. I find it difficult to feel okay. I’m just trying to lead a “normal” life with all this baggage weighing me down.

I really wonder what will come of this if anything at all. I’m supposed to start therapy soon. I was also supposed to study for a math exam on Monday (I haven’t been to class in two weeks, three counting spring break). Maybe when I resolve all these psycho-emotional issues my body will stop rejecting me and I’ll start to feel healthy again.

I believe that things just happen for no reason at all. Life happens indiscriminately. I’m also a forgettable person. Hurry up and forget me. I’m strangely optimistic about the distant future, for now I bid you adieu.

P.S. I apologize for the disjointed mess. When I’m in this mood I tend to leave out crucial details and jump around a lot.

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