Vent?

I wonder why I question myself. Or why I am unconvinced that this is a vent? Perhaps because a vent generally allows me to let off steam, and I doubt that I will feel any relief from writing any of this. But write I must(er) though I should be working. I even took a sick day yesterday despite my standard physical health. Does sick mental health count? Or is that only valid when it’s reached the point of a breakdown? I don’t know.

I need to stop listening to acoustic folk music. It only feeds this… whatever it is. The very nature of my current predicament is a mystery to me. Recurring themes of past failures seem to be the only consistency I’m given. It’s almost maddening.

I try not to linger on the thoughts that pervade the shadows of my past. Yet these, as I’m sure it is with most people, seem to be the brightest, most colorful memories as is only appropriate in a time that will later be described as a dark period in my life. Not to say that colorful means they are pleasant. In fact I find their prolonged stay at the front of my mind most displeasing. No matter how hard I shake, they cling to other thoughts.

I always tell myself I’m not a regretful person. I try my best to accept my actions and the path laid before me. I believe feeling shame is natural, but I try not to regret. But these are words. The fact of the matter is I have forced myself to be removed from things. By removing myself from what would otherwise be a personal investment, it’s easier to allow myself to just be ashamed by a failed action and move on. But there are things I have personal attachment to. And when I lose one of these things, it haunts me.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I believe in being haunted. Seems silly, maybe. But I know what it’s like to have a thought, an action, a single night haunt my thoughts. These almost always involve people. I hate losing friends. I think it’s one of the worst cycles of human existence. Especially when it’s within my control. Losing a friend because they passed away or something to that effect is sad, but it’s beyond your control under most circumstances. That’s much easier to deal with than losing a friend because of an argument.

I wish these thoughts would go away. I wish they would leave me be. Single phrases and instances in time are like pictures hung on a wall in my mind. My own personal wall of shame. Unfortunately, this is where my mind wanders most. To my shames. Under every picture a name of the person lost, and a list of the beautiful things I’ve given up. And like a dagger, the action I took stabs, ruining any tranquility or peace in my mind. I’m such a shameful person.

Sigh. This is looking very emo. I apologize. I haven’t written so poorly in a while. My anger is internal. I need to write to let it out. I don’t want to sound like a whiney brat, but the rational side of me knows it’s a necessity. No one likes a breakdown, afterall.

I got in a car accident Monday that was my fault and I’m pretty sure my friend Heather wants nothing to do with me. These are my two recent screw-ups that have just added to the salt list. But really, it’s the second one that gets me. I… I can’t fix things. I broke it and I can’t fix it. And it’s the worst thing. I always wanted a lifelong friend. That’s what I wanted in Heather. And I screwed it up. I broke it and I can’t fix it. And it’s really hard for me to forgive myself. Almost like I don’t want to.

But there are always brighter things. I do love some of my more recent relationships. Brit, Teresa, Alexa, Anna B, Robert Lee, and I have to say I’m intrigued by a new person named Marley. Lovely, lovely people. There is always a good side. I know that, which is hopefully validation that I’m not an emo kid.

This has gone on long enough. I’ve taken enough of your time, that is if you’ve read this far. I’m unhappy with life, but that doesn’t take away from the amazing people that are still a part of my life. And to them I say thank you. I hope to be back to a somewhat happy state of mind in the near future.

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