The numb that comes with failure

When you know you officially fucked up an opportunity and it’s over and it’s over and there’s nothing you can do. It feels calm and fine and hey, I think there’s a wave of tears back there. Huh. Oh yeah, you’re right. Wonder if it’s gonna reach me. Break over me, or roll and roll and roll. I wasted a week of my life. A weak weak week I could and should have spent looking for other means of income. I don’t know if that bothers me more or less than the failure itself. I’m not supposed to fail, that isn’t my thing. I have a BA and can’t even get a job that pays $12 an hour. Maybe I would find that bitterly hilarious if I were feeling things. I think it’s mostly aimlessness and uselessness I feel, behind the numbness. Two weeks from Friday the rent is due. I have nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Pennies to my name and no way to find more. Hopes as substantial as ghosts. Ideas as good as half burnt toast. Tomorrow (later today) I will drag my sad flesh prison to the gym, because it is a promise from me to me. And I’m sorry I’m so sorry for this weak willed week. Hey, me, I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me and we can find a way to move forward. For now I’m going to sit alone downstairs for a while and listen to music and chew on a piece of plastic. I’m also going to re-read all of Sunstone, because I saw it mentioned on tumblr and I love it and i find it somehow comforting and it makes me feel something at least.

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