I keep wasting my days thinking about what could have been, instead of getting up and living for what could be.
And I know this is wrong, which makes it worse. I know I am wasting my time and my life doing nothing. And knowing this makes me even guiltier for not having done anything about it. Sometimes I wish that I was just mental enough, just crazy enough, to not be held accountable for my actions. Just childish enough to get away with not having to care. But. I'm not. So, I am fully responsible for my actions. And I don't want to be.
I don't want to be, because that makes me a bad person, irresponsible. Because I know I am being wasteful of this one life, this one chance I have... and yet I have no motivation to live it right now. I have never been so depressed, or depressing in my whole life.
It's pathetic really.
I know I can change my attitude, my desires, the choices I'm making... but I just don't have the incentive to! I'm uncomfortably comfortable here.
Maybe it's the dull winter weather wearing and tearing on me? Eh. Maybe a little. But in the end it's just me. I'm responsible. And I am being irresponsible.
This wouldn't bother me if I were truly a crazy person right? So maybe it's good that I am aware of it. I guess I really do have my sanity left, some of it anyway.
But I kinda wish I didn't. This would be easier in a state of denial. Is it crazy to wish to be crazy?
I blame him. Can I do that? Can I pin it on him for shattering my heart and leaving me incapable of piecing it back together? Can I pin it on him for being everything I wanted and then not allowing me to have it? I want to. I want to point my finger at him and curse him. I want to scream at him and loathe him and hate him. It's he who won’t leave my thoughts. Who won’t give me room to breathe. It is thoughts of him that are suffocating me and distracting me from life.
I know it's not his fault. And unfortunately for me, I can not blame him. I love him too much to put him at fault. He has his own demons to deal with.
No. I know it's mine.