“Think pink” my ass!

I am so sick of everything. Mostly myself, probably. This tiny casket inside my psyche in which I´m locked. The same four walls, the same four types of thoughts, the same four alternating moods. Nothing makes me more cranky than self-loathing and apathy, so basically whenever I leave the house and have to see people (not meet people, just see them on the train) I just wait for an excuse to smash somebody in the face. Not that I´d ever do that, unless I really snap, which I have yet to experience. But I´m looking for something, just anything, that justifies all the hatred I carry around.

I hate myself. When I see myself in the mirror, I shake my head incredulously at the fact that you can look this old at age 24 and still not have achieved anything. In my mind I am still 12. I feel no different than I did at age 12. And now look at yourself. Look at those bags under your red eyes, those wrinkles, the results of countless nights wasted on the Internet, countless nights you don´t even remember anymore! 

And then there is this stupid, preachy voice inside my head that tells me that this is such a great chance for me to realize how much better the healthy lifestyle that I so despise would be for me. Exercising. Going to bed before midnight. A healthy diet. Working hard. A positive attitude.

You know, some people with OCD suffer from intrusive, obscene thoughts. These are my obscene thoughts, and they are intrusive and ego-dystonic as fuck. And the worst thing is that every mental health worker on earth would mistake them for my inner voice, or the voice of my conscience. He would take side with them against me!  Fuck´s sake, I wish this would outrage me, but it seems so goddamn normal! Even right! Because I suck, you know. I am always wrong. I must be punished. Life is really great when you have a collective of voices in your head that has nothing better to do than mocking you all day long with advices which they know will piss you off.

On some level I even want to snap. I mean – how else is anybody ever going to take me seriously (no, this doesn´t mean I plan to go on a killing spree)? Sometimes the thought of starting to scream obscenities and swear words in the middle of the street until the doctors send me to the loony bin is incredibly comforting. I doubt, though, I´d even manage to get out a single word.

With all those voices and states of mind and self-images I´m really losing track of who I even am. I want to be saved, but I don´t know which part of me is the real me who should be saved from the others. Or which voice in my head. I´m scared of seeing a doctor precisely because of that. I just sense a danger that he´d simply make his decision without even telling me so as to disable any resistance on my part(s).

Meh. I´d go on whining for another hour, but I need to go to work. Hurray. Playing nanny for disgustingly clever, brilliant, young, ambitious, promising and noisy students at the library. Being ignored when I ask them to be quiet. Nothing better for your self-esteem, is there.

Fuck´s sake.


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