I’m pretty sure its not the fact that I’m too emotional, but my life is a series of highs and lows. Sometimes I’m on top of the world, with lots of people around me, cheering me on like the hometown champion, risen to the big time. Other times, I’m just down, man.

Different things can make it happen… a judgmental comment from someone (and not the “judgmental” comments that are pointing out something wrong, but the judgemental comments that attack your character, from people who supposedly know you). It just hurts sometimes. It doesn’t hurt in the sense that I’m going to go and cry about it, but you can feel when a blow has been dealt. It could be a thought out of nowhere that goes against everything you believe and hope for, and for some reason, that thought pops into your mind in your moment of weakness, and you find yourself believing it.

I’m in one of those low places right now. Where you wonder what the hell you are doing with your life, and whether you really matter. You wonder if you will ever achieve you dreams, or if they are just the visions of a fool, and life was meant for other people… for the people who can always win in conversation, for people whom organization comes naturally, for people who seem to be on the cutting edge of culture and have an opinion about everything, for people whose brains work quicker and dominate those who could care less about winning. There is this haunting feeling every now and then that strikes swiftly and hits me deep… that feeling that I will never get picked first for the team, that I will never do anything great, that I am destined for average, and that no one respects me.

Its amazing the way lies affect us when they contain partial truths. It’s amazing how the enemy (yes I believe there is an enemy waging war against my soul) uses weapons that are devastating yet subtle. Its those subtle thoughts that creep in, those almost lies through careless words of others that penetrate deeply.

Most of the time my problem solver is escapism… I escape into the fantasy world of books, ideas, concepts, entertainment, pleasures, anything to fill the hunger void that in these moments has become deafening.

Am I delaying the inevitable? Am I simply stringing myself along, waiting for things that will never come?

It’d probably be easier if I didn’t feel so isolated, eh?


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