Lethargy or Lottery?

A while ago, there were small yet some regular goalposts in life. Maybe assignments, internals, internships or exams. But, college is over. Now, I am free to climb as high as possible or just fall. Obviously, for me, it is the latter.

It's only been a week I have started working. Menial and underpaid. All I do is wake up. Log in. Click. Click. Click. Type some. Click some more. Update your lead. Click some more. Log out. Lie on bed dreading about tomorrow's clicking. Sleep. Wake up and repeat. I feel as life I'm going to spend the rest of my life sitting at a desk alternating my day dreams between traveling and writing about the world and killing myself. Though, I can only daydream about them since I do not have the guts to do either. It's only been a week I have started working and I can't do this anymore. The moment I start working, I am reminded of my failures and inability to achieve what I had dreamt. All the dreams, hopes, desires and goals I had built for this year, all just shattered. And, I don't think I can take this failure. My bdy is ready to pop off. There is a ball of guilt in my throat which doesn't let me eat. Every moment I just wish I hadn't dreamt about all of that, so the failure and rejection wouldn't hurt so much. I had a life crafted in my head, my wings spread, flying around the world. But, nothing of the sort happened. I am stuck here, between this wobbly table and my side of the bed. With my mother, on the other side of the bed, breathing down my neck. With my father, near the door, keeping me chained. I wish I could leave everything behind and run away and breathe some fresh air. But, it's been months I have seen the sun. Every day, I sit and think. What was so wrong with me? Why did I get rejected? Is there something so repulsive about me?

God, I feel so stuck. Stickily stuck. So stuck that I cannot even get up and walk out of this room. Just stuck here in this sticky liquid of fear and lethargy. I just coddle and comfort myself by thinking this is the waiting room. Something is waiting for me outside this and when the time comes, my life will become a land of beautiful fields. Deep down, I know it is not real. Rather, it is a waiting room for death. And, not a very great waiting room, I must say.

- Oizys.

Pearly Oizys

From the movie Pearl (2022) that struck me and burnt me forever, leaving holes and marks in my soul in the shape of those words:

"Life terrifies me. It's harsh, and bleak, and draining."

"I hate feeling like this. It's so pathetic. Do people like you ever feel this way? Figure you don't... you seem so perfect all the time. Lord must have been generous to you. He never answers any of my prayers. I don't know why. What did I do? What is wrong with me? Please just tell me so I can get better. I don't wanna end up like Mama I wanna be dancing up on the screen like the pretty girls in the pictures. I want what they have so badly... to be perfect... to be loved by as many people as possible to make up for all my time spent suffering. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night and a fear washes over me 'cause what if this is it? What if this is right where I belong? I'm a failure. I'm not pretty, or naturally pleasant, or friendly. I'm not smart, or funny, or confident. I'm exactly what Mama said I was: weak. But I don't know why. What did I do? Why wasn't my family like yours? I hate what it feels like to be me and not you."

"I don't like reality. Where I live I mean."
"So leave."
"It's not that easy."
"Well, sure it is. There's a road right out front there."

I absolutely hate how much these words specifically affect me and trigger my tears. "What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?" constantly ring in my head as I choke myself with my silent sobs to sleep. And, whenever I vent or complain about it, I hear people say, "So leave". Whenever I hear that, it just makes me helplessly angry, those two words carrying a simplicity that feels both enticing and infuriating. I often respond in the same way, "It's not that easy", my voice tinged with frustration, knowing that the road to liberation is paved with obstacles. But then, I think about it. Why can I only feel the chains around my legs but no one else can see them? It feels like an induced illusion. "Well, sure it is. There's a road right out front there." How? I gulp down my screams.

If I hate feeling like this, why would anyone else willfully try to understand by empathizing with this?

- Oizys.