When I was significantly younger and things didn't go my way, I'd often come close to this state of funk.
The funk would last anywhere between a fortnight to months and would end in a big achievement that either I alone or coupled with family would celebrate. It could be anything, a byline in the newspaper, or a letter to the editor of a national daily. It could even be passing the math unit test. The point being, I would snap out of that funk, and only go back to remember it the next time I'd be in a funk.
I've been in a funk since the beginning of this year. All year.
Each time I came close to believing it's over, something else went down. In some cases monumental, in other, not so much. My state of being was paralyzed about two months ago. I landed in the hospital with a severe anxiety attack. My family was convinced it's because of my degree being withheld by the university, my employer believes it was an "innovative excuse for Monday" (may she get genital herpes), my friends think I should "widely scale down pride". I'm pretty sure the dude(s) I've been coddling online would have some opinion but I largely can't care. It comes down to not giving a fuck to anything and anyone.
I've self-diagnosed this to be depression. For over a month, even doing something as basic as brushing my teeth or taking a shower takes copius amount of effort, wherein I've to force myself out of the bed, and against my will to do it. In a way, if I don't move out of the bed, it won't be real. It'll be another day of my thoughts and I, before they become real and come back to bite me in the ass.
I hate to list, much less admit, the events this year that lead to this state. One after the other, every single thing I had going for me, has gone against. Each and everything I wanted to achieve has gone awry.
Few months ago when I discovered a gaping hole in my long term plan, I burst out crying for over two nights. I called a frenemy who is always down to showing me the worst, and in a way I forge that relationship to do one better. He admitted, finally, "The cards you've been dealt with are all bad. What can you do?"
Exactly my point. What on Earth can one do when the life allocated to you is rotten and going against you in every fucking aspect.
It's 11:40 pm on 30 June. Six whole months of this year has passed and I've barely written here, for that matter cared to see the stats or have an idea.
I don't know how will I continue and even for how long. There's nothing, absolutely nothing working for me and I've no will to write or read or even be.
For all those times when I've been physically sick out of my mind and wondered and hoped to stay alive, I'm going to go against and hope otherwise.
This one's on you, Universe. You've fucked me over. I hope you're happy.
The funk would last anywhere between a fortnight to months and would end in a big achievement that either I alone or coupled with family would celebrate. It could be anything, a byline in the newspaper, or a letter to the editor of a national daily. It could even be passing the math unit test. The point being, I would snap out of that funk, and only go back to remember it the next time I'd be in a funk.
I've been in a funk since the beginning of this year. All year.
Each time I came close to believing it's over, something else went down. In some cases monumental, in other, not so much. My state of being was paralyzed about two months ago. I landed in the hospital with a severe anxiety attack. My family was convinced it's because of my degree being withheld by the university, my employer believes it was an "innovative excuse for Monday" (may she get genital herpes), my friends think I should "widely scale down pride". I'm pretty sure the dude(s) I've been coddling online would have some opinion but I largely can't care. It comes down to not giving a fuck to anything and anyone.
I've self-diagnosed this to be depression. For over a month, even doing something as basic as brushing my teeth or taking a shower takes copius amount of effort, wherein I've to force myself out of the bed, and against my will to do it. In a way, if I don't move out of the bed, it won't be real. It'll be another day of my thoughts and I, before they become real and come back to bite me in the ass.
I hate to list, much less admit, the events this year that lead to this state. One after the other, every single thing I had going for me, has gone against. Each and everything I wanted to achieve has gone awry.
Few months ago when I discovered a gaping hole in my long term plan, I burst out crying for over two nights. I called a frenemy who is always down to showing me the worst, and in a way I forge that relationship to do one better. He admitted, finally, "The cards you've been dealt with are all bad. What can you do?"
Exactly my point. What on Earth can one do when the life allocated to you is rotten and going against you in every fucking aspect.
It's 11:40 pm on 30 June. Six whole months of this year has passed and I've barely written here, for that matter cared to see the stats or have an idea.
I don't know how will I continue and even for how long. There's nothing, absolutely nothing working for me and I've no will to write or read or even be.
For all those times when I've been physically sick out of my mind and wondered and hoped to stay alive, I'm going to go against and hope otherwise.
This one's on you, Universe. You've fucked me over. I hope you're happy.
