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Breathing Life

October 26, 2014

I went to my friend’s wedding this past Friday and I had a really great time despite my initial trepidation because anxiety! There was, however, a moment of sadness mixed in with the happiness for my two friends. Mostly it was in my semi-drunken state of thinking of things I’ve been missing in my life and all of the things I wanted to do. And things and people I’ve been missing. Flashback: I was talking to my friend, Ms. K we’ll call her, about my walking habits and how I need to step it up.

Actually, it’s not just the walking in which I’ve been seriously slacking in—it’s everything. I’ve just spent so much time investing in things that really should have no bearing on my life and…I feel like a failure. The anxiety is probably also a symptom of that as well with too much time to think. This is where I don’t know if I’m weaker than I think or stronger. I guess me still being here is a sign of strength, but I’ve been having such a hard time overcoming my anxiety and my own insecurities that I feel really weak.

Then there’s the issues I’ve been having with Glornax-7 not speaking to me or even trying to repair our friendship. On one hand I think, ‘She’s a bitch and I should forget her,’ on the other I think, ‘I’d wait an eternity for her because she means so much to me,’ which is a very fucked up dichotomy but also very normal: should I cut my losses or should I hold out hope for the future? I don’t know and honestly, I’m giving up even trying to contact her for now.

Was there a point to this? I dunno. I feel lost a lot of days and I want to do more, but my anxious side keeps telling me ‘no’ and I tend to listen to it even though it’s been the worst friend to me possible. In fact, I think a heroin user would be a better friend to me at this point than my anxiety has been. Thing is, I have no reason to trust it and the sad thing is I know this and I still listen to it. Even at that wedding, I felt like at least having one dance but I excused it by saying, ‘I’m not much of a dancer,’ and that’s just…depressing.

Homework: learn to stop listening to a voice I know is full of shit.

Note: Yes, I know it’s not a real voice, but it is, for all intents and purposes. It’s not like a schizophrenic voice, but it is no less disruptive to my thought processes than one would be.

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