my concrete backyard. that is my life. it is who i am, what i feel, how i interact, socialize, behave. it is who i am because my life has been hard. so hard that i am running down deeper and deeper into the concrete, sinking further and further until i begin to feel that i will never be able to pull myself back up. i am getting older, getting wiser and going nowhere. i complain day after day about the same things, yet each day i strive to make it a better life both for myself and my husband.
still i feel that no matter the accomplishments, no matter the most insignificant successes in my life i am the most worthless pile of fecal matter ever to have had the extraordinary pleasure of roaming this green earth. who's fault is that? mine. mine and mine alone. i know this feeling will go away. i know it is absolutely pointless to allow myself to wallow through the shallow end of the pool in the hopes that i will somehow slowly drown myself in a pool putrid of water.
all this emotion, all this anger and resentment and loss of hope is due to one stupid little remark. one idiotic little email that because i already feel so guilty affects me in such a way that i want to end it all. no, not my life...just my life as i know it. i work so hard to be better than i was the day before and learn from my mistakes. i work hard at creating the relationships that i feel are necessary in order to learn the skills i'll need to succeed because i know no one is going to give me anything for nothing. yet somehow or another i always end up feeling as though i've once again managed to come up short. i'm not good enough, smart enough or have a rich enough social background to do it. i will never be successful.
not in love, not in life, not in anything. so why am i still here? why do i do it? how is it that i can get up day after day, go to a job i despise, pass the most extruciating exams of my life only to have nothing to show for it and STILL manage to walk around with a smile on my face? it's not the medication because i've always been this way. in fact, i truly feel the adderall has only been beneficial to me in the way that it allows me to ignore all the fucking disgusting and abysmal things i have to endure just to put one foot in front of the other for just one more fucking god damned frustrating day.
my concrete backyard has meaning, has worth, significance and a tolerance that would puzzle even the most patient man yet anything so much as thick as a feather will make it crumble into particles of dust and mineral invisible to the naked eye.
how then is it that i can still manage to be here?