I do wonder if anyone (by which I mean the lovely ladies known as Jess and Sarah) is here or will notice that this exists. If you do... *waves* hi there whee if not, I shall not be deterred, as I have never considered talking to myself to be such a bad thing. In fact, Mrs. Seabury (or whatever, I can't even be bothered to remember music teacher's names correctly) once told me that talking to yourself can be considered a form of organization and constructive reasoning. I think it's a load of crap, to be honest, but I also think she did it herself, and was just trying to make me feel better after she caught me in mid-conversation. Ah, middle school was such a wonderful time...
Anyway, it has come to my attention that for at least the last several months, if not years, I forgot that I am alive, and in doing so caused myself to die a little bit on the inside. A rather unpleasant analogy is coming, in which I compare my lack of a 'life' to an abscess growing in my psyche, which has grown so large that it's likely to burst if I don't get around to draining it sometime soon. I might consider cutting it out entirely, but I have a few concerns about that, since I'd like as much as possible to grow back cleanly and healthy, and I don't want to damage anything else in getting to it.
There's a phrase that I have stuck in my head currently, a little quote I found quite some time ago, which says that "depression is just anger without enthusiasm." Honestly, I find myself agreeing with this so much that I'm finding a little bit of enthusiasm buried deep under years of apathy.
When I was a little kid, I had enthusiasm. I knew what I liked, I knew I was capable of anything I wanted to be capable of, and in the things that actually interested me, I can say (holding back as much arrogance as possible, which isn't working all that well) that I positively excelled. Then something happened, and I don't know exactly what, and I don't know exactly when, but my interest hit a road block. What I remember of the majority of elementary, middle, and high school is an astounding lack of giving a crap. I like learning too, because there are just so many cool things in the world to know about. I think school literally killed my enthusiasm for life. I hate school. I hate everything about it. I hate teachers who are condescending, who hate their jobs, who didn't care about me outside of dealing with an unhappy child and my unhappy parents; and when I think about it, it describes almost every teacher I have ever had since 2nd grade. All I remember about that year was that my teacher was very old, wore too much makeup, and occasionally fell asleep at her desk after taking her shoes off. I don't even remember my 3rd grade teacher's name, or what she (i'm assuming) even looked like. I wonder if all schools sucked as bad. I wonder where I would be now if I had been in a better school, or had teachers that cared or tried a little more while things were still salvageable. And I partially blame all of them for where I am right now, for my lack of effort in school and life and just... everything.
And I blame them for making me forget how to live by making life so very, very unenjoyable. (google chrome's spell check says this is not a word. I don't care.) i think that over the last 12 years or so, I have only been really actually alive for somewhere between 3 to 4 years. That's a grand total of all the time I spent alive over the years. Not to mention the few times that I've been completely and totally undead. The last 2 months come to mind, in fact. I have been mentally, emotionally, socially, physically, and spiritually dead for the last 2 months straight.
And today, I woke up and realized that I am in fact alive.
There are so many things to be alive for. There are a lot of things that I want to be alive for, that I've been missing out on. I've been pretending to be alive for so long that I forgot just how good it feels to actually just live for a while. And yeah, life does throw some seriously crappy stuff at you from time to time. Well, it's actually a fairly steady stream, but how you perceive and deal with it tends to determine just how crappy it all really is. For example, I'm retaking a class or two next semester because I did terribly this last semester. It was completely my own doing, and it's wreaking havoc with my GPA, which was already suffering from the aforementioned apathy issues I have. But I signed up for the classes and thought to myself, "good job. You handled that well. You know what you're doing, and all you need is a little focus to make sure you get it done. And a little bit of motivation to keep that focus." I think my motivation is living.
I've decided that from now on, I'm choosing to live. I refuse to pretend to live from now on. That's not to say that I won't still dwell in a bit of a fantasy world, because if you could seriously logic away mental instability that easily, the world would be a much happier and honestly safer place to live in. I'll just try to divert the majority of my crazy energy into creative energy, into sociability, and into being happy about being alive, and only take out the crazy on rainy days when I can't go outside and I'm all alone.
I wonder if I should go find a school psychiatrist to go talk to. I think perhaps I have some legitimate mental issues. And it might be nice to talk to someone other than myself about it for a while. Someone who's trained to deal with unstable people, who ought to understand why I have deeply ingrained problems with authority and other people in general. Who can help me stay on task and deal with why I just can't seem to focus or follow through on anything.
Is anyone going into a psychiatric field? Am I crazy?
SwarthyBasswood Community Member 
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