Basically, fuck everyhting.

I have experienced a remarkable amount of self-loath today so now I kind of have this need to vent it out in order to go on. Brace yourselves for a massive load of pitiful angst is about to descend on your backyard. Or thereabouts.

To emphasise the mood we are experiencing today.

So, I have this very clear and detailed image of how I ought to be, and consequently I'm unable to meet even the lowest standards I've set for myself. I assume this is quite an ordinary phenomenon amongst the people of the Earth. Mostly I can ignore the inadequacy of my existence just because it's more convenient not to swim in the deepest waters all the time. And besides I'm rather good at ignoring and wishing away things that I don't care to face. I have an escapist bubble where I prefer to reside most of the time. When I'm obliged to exit my safety bubble for some reason I tend to get angry and frustrated - either at the world or myself.
And then I come here to moan about my encounter with the reality.
Because I'm really bad at being an adult - that is if accepting certain harsh facts of life makes one an adult.

I've discussed my eternal body issues multiple times here I believe, but that's nothing to stop me from going back to them time and again. So, yeah.
One of the most gratifying feelings must be running for your life on a treadmill and feeling like an elephant stuffed in a super-tight leotard. Especially when there's a woman more equivalent to an antelope running next to you. Well, that was a one-off, but more nagging is to be aware all the things that would be good for my body that I don't do - as well as all the things that are bad for my body that I do. I hate myself for being too lazy to fully take care of my physical being. I have the knowledge of how to, I just feel so extremely tired all the time these days that I don't have enough of energy to care. I know that stressing about my eating habits is pointless, but whilst they're not nearly the worst the could be, nor are they particularly exemplary either, which bugs me because I keep teasing my mind with the thought that if only I had a better self-discipline, I could be slimmer and happier.
But that's not really the biggest problem. I hate that my neck and back are constantly stiff and giving me headaches. I hate that I'm not as flexible as I used to. I hate that I'm not a better dancer. I hate that I'm so exhausted every morning even if I've slept well and enough. I hate that in the afternoon I'm some days so sleepy that I could pass out in the middle of a conversation. I hate that my appetite seems totally unsatiable. And I hate that I'm so useless: just sitting, doing nothing, never going anywhere or participating anything.
Exaggerations, I know.

But really what drives me crazy is my mind.
I never thought I'd ever be like this. I never thought I'd get so strangled within myself.

There's this mess in my head that I closed inside a box and then stuck somewhere deep because I was too afraid to look at it and solve it. Now it's sitting there comfortably, and when my strength falters I feed it and it grows and tries to consume me. When I'm stronger I kick it away, but it always returns in the most inconvenient moment to bug the hell out of me.

Yeah, I'm deliberately making no sense.

But this thing, which I reckon consists of a lump of many things, makes me loathe myself intensely because it shows me how weak and dependent I am. And although I don't mind showing occasional weakness to my closest and most trusted friends and family, I hate feeling so wholly fragile and helpless as I do.
I think it must be partly the fact that I'm pretty terrible at containing myself and my emotions; I need to let them out in order to handle them. Now this formless emotional tumour has been variably more or less present for quite a while with only tiny drops having leaked out. And even those tiny drops have led into some impressively hysterical crying fits.
I just wish I could get it all out somehow, to have a proper manic tantrum with completely uncontrollable crying and screaming to the point where I'd be entirely empty of any emotion.
But I can't because that'd be regarded as totally crazy and unhealthy behaviour and I'd be sent to a mental hospital. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing now that I consider it.

No but really, I know I'll just keep that shit well locked up and as ignored as possible until there's time to let it explode. At present, I just keep hating myself for having let such a condition be developed, and even more for letting it affect me with such density and force.
I hate being so weak when I have to face these kinds of things. I'm too afraid to confront them, to face them, to let them go - and that I immensely hate about myself.
The most foolish thing is that it's not by any means clear to me why exactly I'm so scared, and what I'm even scared of. When there's a thing that very apparently is bad for you, why is it so hard to just let it go then? Makes no sense to me but for some reason I haven't been able to sort myself out of this - whatever this even is.

Yeah, I'm vastly aware of how little all of the above makes sense but I can't elaborate it without revealing things I don't want to reveal.

I'm tired now but I really wish I could just kick myself in the head because I'm such a pointless, cowardly, idiotic, good-for-nothing pain in the ass.

But there was one good thing today as well, which is that I found out that Poets of The Fall are releasing their new album on Wednesday.