I stopped being good.
You know, like, it just dawned on me one day that...that I still
have nothing to my name after finishing school.
I'd often say my skills have all gone rusty. Sigh. It is
only now that those words have ceased to hold an exaggerated meaning. It is for
real. In fact, It was painfully hard to muster what little motivation I have to
finally start writing.
I am morphing into
something unpleasant,unbecoming, un-Judy. Something drags me farther and
farther away from my self. Writing this is my way of weaving a sturdy rope I
can cling to so I won't go past the bottom. Beyond it lies nothingness that awaits
those who turn themselves in.Those who meander along boundless rivers like myself.
You see, my happy jar still has something glowing in it. In
the past, this cylindrical (figment of imagination) container used to shimmer with
pixie dusts as though some fairies have spun
in joy inside it. But as long as it's not empty I'm keeping the positivity in
the p section of my customized life dictionary.That's the spirit huh.
I still get a lot of
happy and bright days as a matter of fact. What I want is something that'll make
me wanna jump out of bed every morning. There ought to be something beautiful
on the other side of the exit sign past the dreamland.There must be.
The feeling when
you're sliding in a long dark and
twisted waterslide; You're thrilled cause there's gonna be a big bang along
with a splash at the end of it. I want something like that.I've been obsessed
with sleeping for so long nothing comes above it. (Except a few things like
going home to see my niece and having conversations with some loved ones)
I'd wake up and calculate. How much sleep do I get for this
day? When can I take nap? How long will the nap be? If I do this and that, what
should I sacrifice so as not to decrease my sleeping time? The list with
"sleep" in it goes on and on.
You see I have stopped wanting being with people,except for
family. I realized it is possible to have a kind of love like this. A terrible kind
of love people would be reluctant to take. But what can I do? I'm in an impasse
and the tiny voices in my head have thwarted whatever desire I should have to
be social...
Or to be a good friend at least.
I should have saved at least a couple of bucks by now, too. This, my bad health condition and
all sorts of "I haven't" thoughts race through my head every time I
have nothing but the patient walls with me.
I stopped being good in everything, except in overthinking which is
still bad when you think about it.
Writing 10 minute poems used to be a doddle. Now my word bank has gone
bankrupt. I can’t even think of words I need to use in vernacular. I realized
that knowledge has some sort of expiration date. “If unused, will expire on a blah
blah ” as written on goods we buy and consume.
I have nothing more to say except maybe I’m sorry for not being good.
Most especially to myself, cause I don’t feel as sorry as I should be.
