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“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

--T.S. Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

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The Awesome Power of Procrastination

*Trigger Warning: self-harm The power of procrastination is so awesome that even though I have been without Internet access for several hours and I have things that I think I want to do, I have spent that time lying on top of my bed thinking about how I would do all the things I want to do if I were to do them. Very productive. I think that the ideas I have are worth so much more in my head, I can fetishize every negative feeling and pretend that it makes me special or interesting in some way. But when the thoughts become words that I type out and read back, I realise how banal everything about me is. That's probably the real reason writing blog posts and writing in my journal gets a little harder every time. Here is a quick list of the things I should be doing right now: On Tuesday I had a very intense dream that was terrifying enough to make me feel slightly separate from my body all week. Even now, everything feels a little unreal and abnormal; I haven't stopped
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The Mask Reconstruction: Rejection

I'm having a strangely bad day. Strange because I should be feeling pretty good: I've written a draft of my personal essay(which, it turns out, doesn't have to be that personal) and the feedback on my lab reports has been positive. But I had another look at the brochure for the programme I'm applying for and I'm starting to think I'm not even eligible. Of course I'm going to submit the application anyway, but I have lost most of my earlier enthusiasm. I finally realised why it's taken me so long to fill out this application: as long as I haven't submitted it and received my inevitable rejection, I can still pretend I might get in; I can dream about having my own place and a salary and meeting new people and all the other things I can never have. I am 26 years old, I have no real work experience, my academic records are shocking and I'm mentally ill. I couldn't get a job as a cashier because I don't have references or recommendation letters. Nobody wants me and I can't pretend not to see why.

 I need to face my reality. I am old, I am tired, I am worthless and I no longer have it in me to keep going in spite of these things. I'd like to think I tried. I stayed in this house for almost two years without losing it, I sent out a bunch of job applications, I dieted, I exercised. I kept it together as best I could for as long as I could. It won't matter to anyone else, but I think I tried. It just wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

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