ALONE IN THIS WONTED PLACE

I've just completed (almost) 5 seasons of Orphan Black, in about 2-3 days. All the while, I wondered, "What am I doing? ...I know I'm avoiding work... How long am I going to keep this up?... I need a head-smack."

I swear, it's like when you have your life (at least) somewhat figured out, with no big crutches that keep sending you back down into that self-made pit you're hopefully not too well acquainted with, when you're not at rock bottom, adrift in a whirl of confusion, depression and inner anarchy... only then is when others care to associate with you. Only then is help found, a sad irony.

I sit here on my bed, having binged on a 5-season series, as a way of escaping, chilling, and being in a safe and even exciting place, one that lasts only 40 minutes at a time. Alas, I don't want to address the harsh, hard, unsettling world. No,certainly not.

Insulated in a cocoon of a steady stream of entertainment... that is my world. My world of cowardice, secrecy, and, above all, of shame. Shameful I am, because the voice of reason and hope and ambition, continues to whisper from deep within, even after all this while, being smothered and smoldered by the restless, boisterous beasts, ever unsated, ever demanding of more indulgence, more escape, more avoidance. Even now, as I write, I avoid other things.

'Fuck this,' something I've said to myself many a time, as if to assert that I'll never commit another self-defeating act again. I've stopped saying that, for my resolve has proven feeble and ever swaying. There no longer stands will, or self discipline, or any significant self esteem. In their place, sadness, fear and shame dwell. Sadness over the state of my non-being, fear of much, and shame in, once again, the state of my non-being.

No one, should anyone read this, cares. At least not really. God knows I've sought counsel, pursued different avenues, practiced different modes of living, but alas... I sit here. Defeated. Hoping. Still hoping. Praying for a straw in this sea of anarchy. For adrift and swaying, I have but this voice left, but no one listens.

You'd think that by 22, I'd have matured enough to carry myself in much of life's occurrences. I'd think so too. I guess I've just been waiting for that adult switch to be flipped, for an a-ha moment of self actualization, manifested in self discipline and self esteem. Not so.

I hate my state of non-being. God knows I do. I really do.

I have so much I want to do, and can do, and by all appearances, I have exactly what I need, if not a bit more. ...but I'm still sitting here. Sure, I work here and there (sometimes binge-work out of raw ambition), but there's never anything truly consistent.

I feel like I've been singing the same song for a while, for too long, and changing the tune has been way overdue.

I absolutely hate my state of non-being.

Numbed time and again I have been, by the capriciousness of my ways, for I have been stuck at step 1 for months on months on months. I start, crawl, take one step, then the next, then maybe another one, and I fall. And the cycle, disheartening as ever, perpetuates. Numbed by failure, hence, I learn not to fight and scold from the frustration of unrealized ideals. I simply... drown out the pain, stow it away, bury it.

Selfish, aren't I? Sobbing about my inner problems like they mean anything to anyone beyond me. The thing is, I can see the solution, but my arm is too fucking short to reach for it. I don't know if you understand this frustration. You probably don't care about 'I' but about you, which is why there's practically no point in writing this. I seriously feel like a washed-up survivor stranded in an island of his own perceived limitations, signaling an S.O.S to anyone and everyone... but to no avail.

What if ... what if I just want someone who's patient and open enough to understand, and who I can, in kind, understand? What if I just want one of those cool friendships so often portrayed on sitcoms, where we get each other, help each other, love each other?

Why is it so fucking hard to find one who can help me up.. as I sit here? At rock bottom. Why do many watch as I drown and walk on, unfazed and apathetic?

Is it fundamentally wrong of me to hope for help? Am I naive and misguided in the hope of a sense of kinship and humanity? Is everyone else BUT me in on the fact that I have to always be self reliant?

I've lost so much of myself that I don't know how to be sustainably self reliant.