This is nothing deep or profound. Just my reasons why I’m sad, I just need to say this stuff a dozen more times and maybe then it’ll hurt a little less.
1: Injuries.
I hate it. It’s not fair, why me? It shouldn’t be this bad, I should have recovered by now, six months ago I should have been fine, I’m not. There’s at least another few months to go. It’s humiliating. It’s inconvenient. It’s humbling. It’s unfair. I think about why it happened to me, honestly I know why, I could have told you a year before it happened, that brings me to number 2.
2: I hate that it was my fault.
The minute I took that job I already knew what I was doing. I didn’t have to do manual labour, I had other options but I felt like I had to do my time. Shed my sweat, feel some aches, I had to do real work, hard work, I had to pay for my redemption. Redemption from what, I don’t know, but I felt like I had to do my time. More than that, it wasn’t just a healthy desire to get my hands dirty. I wanted to get hurt. Not debilitated, just hurt. I wanted to be in pain because inside I was in so much pain. I knew this; I consciously thought this many times and pushed it aside. I did a lot of stupid things until eventually the odds caught up with me.
3: I hate that I took the next step I’d planned, and it felt like it failed.
I’d wanted to get hurt, but I expected to move on. When I did get hurt, it was my excuse to move on to the next step in my elaborate, meticulous plans, the next step was university and being forced to leave my job from which I’d earned the money to put myself through uni, was the perfect excuse to go through with it.
I don’t like university, it’s too stifling. There’s no freedom. I feel like I’m so far ahead of where I’m expected to be that I’m just ramming my head against the wall by doing this work. I get insulted by it, and when I disagree with it I cannot voice my opinion because it is an opinion without authority.
I am not good at conformity. I hate that university has not been easy for me, my only source of pride is my brains and yet this academic measure of intelligence shows me to be a fool. That is difficult for me. When I don’t touch the work, ignore it until the last week, study for a week and score near perfect marks on my exams and still fail the course, it shows I am a bad student, but it does not show that I lack the knowledge or understanding. I hate that, I hate that it wont adjust to me and I must adjust to it. I hate that.
4: I hate that even through all of this I feel like I can do so much, like I want to do so much and yet some part of me is missing or broken or gone completely. I don’t know what, I just feel broken.
I don’t know why I keep talking about this here, actually, I keep talking about this to everyone I know or meet. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m asking what’s the meaning of life? But I feel as if until I find an answer as to why I should try, any talent or potential or strength or intelligence that I may have is useless to me, it just sits and collects dust incapable of motivating itself.


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