Telling this to go away is like telling the stars to stop shining

[sweetprince]

I'm tired, you guys. I'm so tired. I'm frustrated with everything and disappointed in myself. I gained a lot of weight in college, as my mother must perrenially remind me. I've started running again now that I'm home and don't have to worry about getting mugged at gun point, but it's not like it's all melting off. The minute I start freaking out about my appearance, it's like all the other shit comes creeping in.

I'm frustrated and disappointed with my writing and my school work and my decisions. I'm sitting here plagued by doubts. About everything. I'm a walking conflicted-doubt machine person. I'm torn between thinking "I AM WONDERFUL, WHERE ARE MY ACOLYTES?" and "I hate myself and I shall amount to shredded paper for the rest of my life." I think it's time they come up with a new disorder--manic narcissism or something.

So what do I do, guys? The obvious solution would be to smoke so much pot I simply don't care about ANYTHING other than my next toke, but then I would probably become more rotund rather than less. And I'd probably have a paranoid schizoid episode and even THAT would be spoiled.

I'm just so lonely. Even when I'm with friends. I want to feel wanted for something, like I'm doing something right, rather than the constant litany of why aren't I good enough?

Comments

[bananafish.livejournal.com]

1. DON'T listen to what your mother--or anyone else with a history of image problems--says about your weight. Okay, first of all, isn't it normal to gain weight freshman year? The 15 and all that? So you're not alone, at least. If it doesn't bother you, ignore them (yeah, easier said than done, I know...). If it does bother you (and has nothing to do with media brainwashing, etc), what worked for me was to find a substitute for food as an anxiety reducer (which I suspect might be part of this--that's my problem, at least). Music, getting out of the house, a bath, whatever. And dude, pot is totally overrated. It just worsens my anxiety.

YOU SAID LAST WEEK YOU LIKED YOUR WRITING! You were talking about how much you loved your blockbusters class and prof, and you have some idea what you would like to do with your life. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I had kind of gotten the idea you liked your history classes (Lauren? A history buff? Naah...)

If you find the disorder, tell me. I think that feeling isn't at all uncommon (though I tend to spend more of my life in the second mindset). I'd say just plow through the insecure times and enjoy the narcissistic ones if you can at all. Also, if you do amass acolytes, a masseuse would probably help ease tension.

No pot. (See above.) (True but unrelated story: Atrix's brother walks in on our discussion of how to curb my caffeine addiction right as she says "You know, I hear crack has similar effects. You should try that." He then explains, in complete seriousness, that we'll "be seeing a lot of cocaine in New York," probably within the first week of being there. I found this amusing because her brother is awkward, kind of like Max Fox.)

The obvious response to all of this life-shit is that you are good enough, you retard, and you need to start appreciating it. I hope that someday you will encounter, briefly, a group of insanely stupid, obnoxious people that make you realize how important intelligence and social grace are.

If we were in my car, I would put on Savage Garden's I Want You. (Put it on for me.)

Also, answer your phone, please.

[I just attempted to write "I love you, Lauren" in the accent of that priest in The Princess Bride, but your name came out as Wauwen, which kind of ruined it. Just so you know.]

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

1. BUT MY MOMMY'S RIGHT. MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL I WEIGHED 148 LBS AND WAS LIKE, YIKES TOO HEAVY. NOW I'M TEN POUNDS HEAVIER THAN THAT. IT'S NO GOOD. But I thank you for trying.

2. My point about my mania-like narcissism exactly. I think we can look at my mood behavior like a sine wave with like an uber huge amplitude. OHMYGOD, I'm such a dork for that reference.

3. NOBODY CAN TOUCH ME. EVEN IN MY MOST NARCISSISTIC PHASES I WILL NOT LET THEM NEAR ME.

4. Pot: I was being facetious. How can you claim to have MET me if you thought I was being serious about the pot thing. ;p

5. WE ARE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. I only had AC/DC's Stiff Upper Lip. But I actually like that album after all. Please don't throw stuff at me. And I like you. And your uber long comment of doom. or the opposite of doom.

What the hell. I'm talking nonsense. As for Wauwen, as my brother actually does call me that, I think I'll survive.