I seem to sulk a lot; almost like I enjoy it. I sit in a hole of self pity for the longest time and then I have an epiphany and get out; usually short lived. It’s not always the same hole, sometimes I dig a new one.
It’s frustrating to be stuck in a vicious cycle; paralyzed mentally, not being able to do anything because it feels like the right thing to do.
Laziness is a choice, an easy choice and I always take it up. I fuck things up and I sulk in my hole of self pity doing extremely stupid things, and then go back to my sulking or moping or laziness and do nothing.
I constantly seek approval from people I adore, or have in high regard and it’s always turned bad or I make sure it does.
I can’t focus, want to understand myself before heading anywhere in life. I don’t know a thing about myself; always floating in an illusive cloud of self and how well I know me but it’s just a lie, which is the key holding on to my sanity.
The day the cloud is completely gone and I’m out in the open, my sanity will slip through my fingers and be the end of me.
It’s hopeless because I can never write; write like the first shower of monsoon, or a first kiss, or the first time at a beach, make love for the first time or even the first time a loved one holds tight, hums a song and fall asleep together.