Book #2

Bad Vibe

It's back again.
That haunting feeling.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I loathe it.
I despise it.
I detest it.
It's back.

Gods, do I feel horrible.
That little voice of mine is screeching it's horrible chants again.
Your room is a mess.
You're so fucking useless.
It's been weeks since you've hung up your laundry properly.
It's such a simple fucking task and yet you can't seem to do it.
Why are you just lying there?
Fuck you.
I try not to feed it.
I sit there in silence.
It's how I cope.
When I'm scared, I freeze.
I don't respond.
I don't obey.
I just sit there.
Maybe I am a useless little shit.

But that doesn't matter.
People still care about me.
I still care about me, too.
I still have dreams and aspirations and hopes.
And when I get out, it goes away.
Mostly.
The rest isn't strong enough to really matter.

But that feeling...
That's the worst part.

I lie there feeling shitty, not doing anything about what I want to do or should do.
I'm not in a good state right now. If something makes me feel bad, I don't have to do it right now.
I don't really know.
But I'm still lying here,
Room a shitstorm,
Crying on-and-off,
Curled up on the bed and spread out on the floor.
I don't understand.
Maybe I never will.
But I hate it.

I love being in my room.
I love lying down,
Cuddled in blankets,
All warm and cozy.

But now that feeling is there.
That I'm not doing anything.
That I'm useless.
And all of a sudden my safe space turns into the place I fear going back to.
I leave it a mess because cleaning it makes me feel bad,
Even if I know the cleaner space would make me feel better.
I even do it subconsciously now.

I'm sorry.
I hate it.