Bus stop thoughts.

Half an hour. Alone at the bus station. I wasn’t cold, I bought a warm jacket and boots.

Honestly, I think I’ll do this every evening, I mean if the bus won’t come and I’ll have to sit that half an hour.

Why? It makes me come to terms that this is how my life is. It’s cold, dark and lonely. And I’m the only person to blame. I am here, I’ve stayed here even when I wanted to be gone. As I sit there and think, I see myself just existing, I’ve given up my hopes and dreams. I make decisions, for example, one of the decisions I made was that this Christmas I won’t give gifts, I’ll simply give money, I’ll put it in a blank, white envelope. Also, another decision – I won’t celebrate Christmas. I hate them. I might make a post about why I hate/don’t see anything special with Christmas.  If anyone (by that I mean my sister or brother) will invite me over, I’ll politely say no, thank you. It was my New Year’s resolution – to not celebrate those things.

As I sit there, I feel…. I can’t even explain. As if I’m put in this world even though I didn’t want to be here. No…not exactly. I’m just here.

I was on a short cruise ship with my friend (should I call her that?). Aside from terrible hungover at one morning, it was pretty nice. We talked about our childhood (we know each other for 20 or a bit more years). I envied her family and hated mine. She felt like my family doesn’t like me (it was hard to explain how she felt), that my family sort of neglected me. Whatever. Her current situation is worse than mine, so why do I even complain.

Don’t know what to do with my job. I guess I’ll stay even though I hate it, it’s killing my nerves. It’s not like I’d a job that I’ll be happy to go to. It’s like, what, 10% of all people who actually love their job? Good for them. If I can resign at 65, then I have 40 years left. Not that much.

You know, my mind is light. When you make those decisions, everything seems better.

On Friday I’ll go to a concert. I haven’t been to one in years. I’m almost sure that I’ll grow bored, then I’ll want to cry because of seeing all the people enjoying themselves while I’ll think “Can ground open and swallow me?” If I wouldn’t get a horrible hungover, I’d like to get drunk but I won’t.

Well, I guess all I left to do today is to go to sleep.

 

 

Waiting for bus

It’s a rainy evening, I’m waiting for a bus. The one that should be here never waits for the train so I have 30 minutes to sit and think about my life.

Is this how’s it’s gonna be? Will I ever have something normal?

My chest hurts from all the stress I had today. At one point at work my body just went into this “overwhelmed” mode. I couldn’t pull myself together. All I wanted was to grab my bag, coat and leave without looking back. It was too much. Yet, if I don’t have a job, I don’t know what can I do… I blame myself for not being a good specialist. I help people, at least sort of, it makes me feel good.

Now, wind blows in my face, I’m cold and tired, and I think “This is what I have for a life. I deserve this. It’s fine. I gave up dreams time ago.” It’s true, I don’t want my dreams anymore. They don’t matter, they’re for someone else. I’ll be fine with scraps. I’ve been cold since I remember myself. It’s either home that is cold, parents couldn’t buy warm enough clothes. Though, that’s one thing I want to change, I’ve bought myself boots and now I’m looking for a warm coat. But I doubt it’ll warm up the coldness in my chest.

Everything is gray. My mind is gray too. I hate my mind because there’s still hope. I don’t want it. I want to be “normal”. Yet, I hate myself for wanting to give up. I’m so split that it’s driving me crazy. Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I hate myself.

I’m lonely. But we already knew that. It won’t change.

My mind drives me to dark places. As I write this, I’m angry at myself for crying. For me, crying is weakness, I’ve been mocked for crying so now, I hate crying. I sometimes get this strange feeling of lightness, it scares me.

But soon, when I’m out of bus, I’ll put on my smiley face, everything will be fine. My inner world won’t touch you, I won’t let you see it.

To the person from my home country, who regularly seems to check in here, if you know me, don’t worry. I’m fine. Last thing I want is to someone, whom I don’t pay to listen and deal with me, is to worry about me. Do not do that.