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I find myself sitting at my computer wanting to scream. I of course won't do that because I don't want to bother my three roommates and very close friends at this late hour.
It seems my life has been plagued by a constant theme; the idea of always being good, but never good enough. In everything I did or have done that I can remember that ever mattered to me, I was never what I wanted to be. Best. Just once, it would have been wonderful to shine through. I.e. I devoted 9 years of my life to the sport of wrestling. Just once, I would have liked to be where my greatest role model in the sport had been (he was a three time State champion in high school, one time runner-up and he had been a national champion in college). The closest I ever came was taking second in our division, after being ranked first and was supposed to win. I ended my career with three losses in a row. So much for that dream.
Many would argue that it was just a sport, and that I should not put that much pressure on myself. Please don't tell me that. Where I choose to place myself is my choice. This of course makes me wonder: "Do I put too much pressure on myself? Do I expect myself to perform on an unrealistic level?" If that is indeed the case then I am an incompetent, because who would not want to perform their best, and I know I have always had it in me to be the best.
But just looking into wrestling wouldn't be enough. One failure does not justify this post. Nothing justifies this post. The nonsensical bullshit of what I believe to be is a depressed masochist is all this really is. A message of self-pity and a cry for an audience. Pathetic. I don't even know how to deal with my own problems.
But anyway, yet another example of failure. A person whom I love very much, and know she loves me back and whom I have had a special relationship with in the past two and a half years has decided she only wants me as a fall back plan. She wants to experience at least a year on her own. I can understand that she wants to enjoy her life. Everyone only has one childhood. But I feel as if I wasn't good enough again. This is my fault. I know it is.
So I am up to two things. Woo. Still no justification for this tripe. Like stated beforehand, I don't think anything could ever do that. Every day I am reminded of failure. I can't live up to my own goals I set for myself. What the hell is wrong with me
. . .
I hate this post. I can already tell. But I hurt. And I hate myself so thoroughly right now. I feel there will be many more trips to this journal. I also feel that I am going to hate every one. Maybe somewhere along the line I can help myself. Maybe I just need to say things on my mind to get them off my back. Maybe it's all bullshit. I worked extremely hard not to edit this crap, just let it flow this is late night stupor I seem to have fallen into, but reading over it makes it seem more and more pathetic. I wish I were fluent enough in my works to ever explain how I was truly feeling, but as of my 19 years on the planet I have been yet unable to do that. The cliche no one understands me actually fits me, because I don't know how to make them understand. My words are useless. Another of my failures. s**t.
I'm sick of this blathering; maybe I'll write more tomorrow.
I'm tired.