I wanna kick the machine
That made you piss away your dreams
And tear at your defenses
Until there's nothing left but me.
That made you piss away your dreams
And tear at your defenses
Until there's nothing left but me.
- Goo Goo Dolls, Dizzy -
I'm riding on a minor second wind. While I wouldn't describe myself as motivated by any stretch of the imagination, I'm not kicking and screaming every step of the way anymore. That was a fucking waste. Just one word: acceptance. At some point, I switched to jaded without actually experiencing anything worth noting. I almost feel like I've given up. I don't even remember what my dreams were and what I wanted out of my life. A long time ago, I always wondered why people weren't happy and why they couldn't do what they wanted. Well, we all have to work to live, eat, sleep, etc. It's ridiculously simple.
Honestly, life was so much better when I was seventeen and stupid. I had self-confidence, dreams, happiness...then some evil fairy called life came and waved her crooked wand, and *presto*, here I am. That's the other thing, wallowing in self-pity because taking responsibility is too hard. It's so easy to assign blame to anything and everything and just say: I'm irrevecablly fucked up and I can't ever climb out of this hole.
Surprisingly, I'm on some sort of a local peak because I've had a pseudo-social life for the last few weeks and everything else is hiccuping along relatively smoothly. But I know I'll blink and I'll hit the next plateau or trough (probably ~midterms). What happens happens. I know that something snapped, and I can't pinpoint when it happened and I can't fix it.
It's ironic when I consider that my life is so much better than almost everyone else's. The fourth best college in the country. The third best doctoral program in the country. And I can't fucking live my life. Forgive me, I'm just tired and old and bitter at the moment.
Honestly, life was so much better when I was seventeen and stupid. I had self-confidence, dreams, happiness...then some evil fairy called life came and waved her crooked wand, and *presto*, here I am. That's the other thing, wallowing in self-pity because taking responsibility is too hard. It's so easy to assign blame to anything and everything and just say: I'm irrevecablly fucked up and I can't ever climb out of this hole.
Surprisingly, I'm on some sort of a local peak because I've had a pseudo-social life for the last few weeks and everything else is hiccuping along relatively smoothly. But I know I'll blink and I'll hit the next plateau or trough (probably ~midterms). What happens happens. I know that something snapped, and I can't pinpoint when it happened and I can't fix it.
It's ironic when I consider that my life is so much better than almost everyone else's. The fourth best college in the country. The third best doctoral program in the country. And I can't fucking live my life. Forgive me, I'm just tired and old and bitter at the moment.
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