Blaming yourself

Sometimes, things get me down. Lately I’ve been really trying to get my life back on track, but there are these moments that nothing seems to work out and nothing seems to matter. 2015, that would be finally a better year for me, after all those years of trouble, of misery, of depression, of despair, of no job, of not being able to lead an independent life. To make things work, to earn your own money, to pay for everything you need yourself.

But reality is different. I’m not independent. Face the facts, sharktoothsweater; without your parents, you would live on the streets. I can’t take care of myself in that way: all I do is just eating my savings, trying to spend as less as possible, but for what?

I’ve been trying (but probably not hard enough) to make things work. I went abroad, but it failed. Partly because of me. Because I can not stay motivated in worlds where no one seem to care about you, or care about anything that involves more work.

I’ve been applying pretty seriously the last few weeks, but without results still. 98% doesn’t even respond at all. I had one serious reply, and I’m waiting for the next step. But I realize very well, that that isn’t much; it’s no guarantuee at all. And it’s temporary, and it will be challenging. But I can’t sit back relaxed like yeah, I will have a job soon. Things are not like that.

I can’t see myself getting a ‘life’ anymore sometimes. I can not think of what kind of job would suit me. My diplomas and work experiences are neglectable, and they are saying nothing much.

What life would suit me? What job would suit me? How would I get there?

I just don’t see it. I can’t see it.

I can’t even see how I would get benefits. It’s destroying me slowly I guess. There’s one word: blame.

I’m the cause. That;’s how many will see it.

Maybe that’s how I see it too.


Useless in the night


I am

one of the

the useless

in the night

Captured behind a window

that keeps me from


the real world

where the lights in the buildings twinkle

but they’re too far

away, away.


Just sitting here


Enough said. Just sitting here.

That seems to be my existence, at the moment, for the last few days. I’m not doing anything really, at least that is how I feel. I wake up, looking outside at the tree in front of my window; there is no need to step out of bed to sense the icy cold outside.

I don’t like it too much, but yet I feel stuck to do things. (I know I’m not, because in reality I am able to move). All I do, is just doing the household, because I’m the only not working person in this house.So I cook, do the shopping, vacuum clean, take care of the animals, do the laundry, iron, clean the kitchen, the bathroom, and still work on my downsizing stuff project. It’s still going (really takes ages). I was able to sell quite some stuff so far, but there is still much left. This selling my stuff went well so far; finally, since a long time I had some money coming in, even if it’s less the minimum wage for sure, it does help me. I was able to buy new shoes for the winter, without feeling guilty of it. I am able to buy a few presents for people to give them with Christmas, without feeling guilty if it was the right thing to spend money.

Yeah; I usually feel guilty when I spend money when nothing is coming in. But when my bank account balance doesnt change, it seems to be okay. So far , so good – untill now. Another thing I know it’s temporary.

So far I think I’m doing okay – I don’t feel great but I’m not super depressed either, even if the circumstances are perfect for it. And the days are cold and long and dark and I don’t know what to do very well. In the mornings I have some trouble to get out of bed, and then suddenly I rush because I feel guilty I stayed in bed for so long. I’ve been searching another job round, but it didn’t gave any results; simply nothing available for which I have the required papers.

And here I sit.

Wonderful, just wonderful.

1 pm. A movie, one of the 3 dvd’s I own, is playing for the 3rd time. It’s not that I like the movie that much, it’s just to pass the time and just to try to distract myself from these awful feelings.

I’m too empty and exhausted to type what is going on. But let’s say I feel awful and ” work” as far as you can speak of work , is absolutely not helping. In fact I’m afraid it influences all of this pretty much or at least makes it stronger. My hope of change, or that I would once just make it, is slipping away.

Hell yeah. I’m 30, and I feel like this is the end of my life.
I have no future. I will not make it. I just can not adapt to the world.

Not in the past, not now, not in the future.

I can not take care of myself financially. I’m stuck and trapped in invisible prisons.I’m doomed to live on the streets when this finishes (maybe that comes sooner than the original planning , but I feel too exhausted to type the story- it doesnt matter anyway). Or I’m doomed to live with my parents forever and feel ashamed of myself, that I can not even take care of myself and I’m too useless for anything. Oh yeah of course there are things I can do, but my talents are USELESS. USELESS. There is no room or space for them and nobody is waiting for it.

I’ve never been in such a fucked up position. When I was in university, things where a lot better. But hey,  I am the one to blame right, according to a lot of people – to public opinions, or at least what many think or say….. Since I should just get a job, and if I don’t get a normal paid job that is my fault, because 1-I dont try hard enough 2- Im not good enough 3- whatever, it was just in my head and now I forgot it because probably I’m the insane one right?

I guess I should quit this all and let myself admit to a mental hospital and hope they will drug me so badly for the rest of my life I will be numb forever and just wait untill I can die.

Yeeha. And fuck you world, fuck you.

The sadness of ugliness

The painting on the wall,

is totally useless to me,

ugliness shines out of it,

my soul does not glow.

I feel sorry,

for this painting,

since someone must have made it

from the soul, from the heart,

and here I am , disliking it,

and I really feel sorry I do,

for this ugly creation,

and actually, I know that

nothing is really ugly.

I am a monster

Just another day, it’s just another day.

Another sad day. I’m lying in bed again. Staring at the wall, trying to shut off my brain and not feel anything. Not this extreme sadness. In the background, the clock keeps ticking. Now and then I watch at it, seeing midnight come again. For another day, I didn’t change my clothes. Being awake and asleep in the clothes. Haven’t showered for days. Haven’t eaten well for days. Somehow it is all too heavy and I can not manage to do somehting about it. All I want is crawl away in bed. But my beds sucks too. Last week, I washed all the bed clothes, but I never bothered to put them on the blankets and pillows again. Lying on a bare mattress, my sleeping bag and undressed blankets. Hello again, depression. Hello again, apathy. Hello again, awful feelings. Hello again, loneliness.

Suddenly it strikes me how lonely I feel. How I lost myself. How I lost everything. How I do not know things anymore. Voices on the street pass by, like a distant radioshow. They seem happy. The contrasts are big again.

All this time, I have been living in a lie. I have never been myself. Always adapting one or the other way. Always searching for to be accepted, to be loved. To be part of something. And this is what is really me, or what is left of me. A piece of garbage lying down in bed. A useless, ugly, not able to manage, creature that can not even take care of herself.

Finally I fall asleep. And wake up, much too early. I don’t have to step out of bed to predict this day. I turn around. No need to press on repeat.