Some days I feel like I can't win.
Some days I feel like I'm caught in a cosmic hamsterball of anxiety and frustration and never having enough energy to do anything beyond deal with the anxiety and frustration and that next thing rushing at me that absolutely has to be done now or a catastrophe will occur and my rent will be late or my meds run out or my hair smell so bad from not having showered in five days that it will be in danger of spontaneous combustion OF SMELL. (I know it's not possible. Shut up.)
Today I watched a video of a woman wiping her face free of makeup and talking about how she had learned to be proud of her imperfections, even her acne. Some days I'm too tired to put on makeup, but I will never be anything other than embarrassed and humiliated to go out in public with red splotches running up my jaw and across my cheeks.
Today I heard my roommate say it was past midnight, time to go to bed, and talk about getting up early tomorrow to grade a paper. I stayed up into the wee sma's typing blog posts and reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and clicking random links people I barely know had posted on Facebook.
Today I got the dishes done, but left my folded laundry in piles on the floor, and didn't email the people I was supposed to email, and didn't file my ever-mounting stack of papers like I was supposed to.
I think this blog post happened because in my last one, I was talking about my relationship with God and what it is and isn't, as if I thought I was wise or holy or something, and I'm not, I'm not. I'm just trying to say something out loud into the darkness and hoping the echo will make sense when it comes back. Maybe instead of sounding like me, tired and scared and confused out of my wits, it'll sound like someone else, like a friend, maybe.
Oh, hey, it's you.