rooftop noir

I don’t know why I am struggling to cope with this lockdown. I’m comfortable, in a safe place with plenty of opportunities to engage with people online, take a stroll with friends or entertain myself with Netflix, books, podcasts and music. But I feel utterly useless. Like there is zero point to my existence. All I want to do is drink myself into oblivion. Drown in my angst.

Nothing is ever good enough for me; not my behaviour, my achievements, my motivations or my actions. Nor my career, my writing, my desires, my dreams. Nor you. Or him. Or her. I am unsatisfied. Life is unsatisfying. Enough is never enough.

I am never enough. Not enough to make someone change their pattern of behaviour, or move countries or cities or hell, even chairs to be with me. The timing is always off, they say. I know that isn’t really the case, how can the timing always be off?

But I now realise that by not being enough for anyone, I am not actually enough for myself and as such, I will remain alone and unsatisfied.

So what’s the point in dating? In engaging in activities anymore if nothing is ever enough?

Is 38 the age I just throw my hands in the air and say fuck it?!

Yes.

im-so-3008:

(Source: ruinedchildhood, via roseoilz)