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Why is it that no matter what I do, it never seems to be good enough? Somehow my failures always outweigh my accomplishments, and the only thing I can ever see is where I've fallen short. I hate it, I hate feeling like this, constantly inadequate, and yet I can't seem to escape it. And when I listen to other people recounting their successes, I find that I have nothing of my own to say, nothing to brag about, and my life stretches both behind me and in front like an empty void.
"I must live a life beyond anyone's dreaming," I say to myself, but what good is it? Simply a way to make up for an unsatisfactory existence, to blur over the manifold failures with the haze of exoticism. But what difference does that make, really? In the end the failures are still there, all of them. My accomplishments, the amazing places I've been and the adventures I've had, my pictures and my stories, all molder and collect dust under my bed. Because no one cares, and I can't even seem to make anyone care. For that matter, I can hardly care myself, and I find myself belittling what I've done, or not talking about it at all so as to avoid making others feel bad.
And I'm whining, which disgusts me, and I've deleted any number of similar entries since I started writing in this damn thing that only encourages my idiotic self-pity, my delusions of connecting to other people. I have work, I have more work than any sane person can conceive of doing in a single week, and I'd better start working on it or else I'll be racking up an entire semester's worth of failures.
"I must live a life beyond anyone's dreaming," I say to myself, but what good is it? Simply a way to make up for an unsatisfactory existence, to blur over the manifold failures with the haze of exoticism. But what difference does that make, really? In the end the failures are still there, all of them. My accomplishments, the amazing places I've been and the adventures I've had, my pictures and my stories, all molder and collect dust under my bed. Because no one cares, and I can't even seem to make anyone care. For that matter, I can hardly care myself, and I find myself belittling what I've done, or not talking about it at all so as to avoid making others feel bad.
And I'm whining, which disgusts me, and I've deleted any number of similar entries since I started writing in this damn thing that only encourages my idiotic self-pity, my delusions of connecting to other people. I have work, I have more work than any sane person can conceive of doing in a single week, and I'd better start working on it or else I'll be racking up an entire semester's worth of failures.
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I think you should realize that a whole lot of people care about you and your many many accomplishments, your stories.
And I'm whining, which disgusts me, and I've deleted any number of similar entries since I started writing in this damn thing that only encourages my idiotic self-pity, my delusions of connecting to other people.
You should get rid of your LJ then? Or at least abandon it for a while?