I’m only writing this because I really don’t want to work on my NaNoWriMo novel. Eugh. (That’s the most pretentious way to say “ew.”) To work on my novel, I have to use my imagination and stuff. I have to decide what my characters are going to do next, and keep slogging knee-deep through the trenches of whatever my plot is doing. I am depressed! I have anxiety! I’ve been feeling shitty since 8pm yesterday!
I stayed up until six AM yesterday morning messing around on the Internet because every time I stopped forcefully ramming outside information into my head, my jerkbrain started screeching insults at me. (I was mostly reading hurt-comfort fanfiction, honestly. HUG THE SAD PERSON, FICTIONAL CHARACTER, so I can pretend it is me.) I finally went to bed when I was so exhausted I could just collapse into bed and go directly to sleep, skipping the part where I stare into the darkness and feel my self-esteem drain away into the pits of existential despair.
Am I wearing yesterday’s clothes? MAYBE. You can’t prove anything. Neither can anyone else, I didn’t leave the house today.
(A list of things my jerkbrain likes to call me:
-Fat and ugly.
-Lazy and worthless.
-Immature and oversensitive.
-A wannabe who will never be anything but.
-A disgusting flesh suit containing a mediocre soul.)
It was one of those days where things like self-injury and eating disorders are about ten times more understandable, and considered as legitimate options. I have a recurring fantasy, at those times, of carefully peeling all of my skin off in strips, then the muscles, until I’m just a skeleton, and dead, and I don’t have to deal with anything anymore. That or lighting myself on fire. Or just. Ceasing to exist. Sleeping for eternity. I didn’t hurt myself, and I never really have, but it’s a thought that is there.
So I’ve been feeling shitty, and I haven’t written any words today so far. It’s only 6:30 PM where I am, so I have, like, five hours, but I’m an idiot who decided that NaNoWriMo wasn’t “challenging” enough and I need to write 100,000 words, so if I just skip today, I’ll be 3,333 words behind, and forced to write, like, 6666 words tomorrow. Or at least 4k if I want to catch up by the end of the month. UGH. END ME.
I just got the urge to apologize profusely for being publicly upset, on my own blog with zero followers. Goodness gracious. If I can’t scream into the void in my own corner of the Internet with my name utterly unconnected to the posts, and no one I know ever seeing it, where can I scream into the void?
Alright, now that I have written 500 words that won’t be included in my novel’s count and have thoroughly wasted my time, I need to go do the NaNo thing. At least, like, a few hundred words. I want to get that 30 days in a row update badge, and that’s a few hundred less words I have to do in my frantic catch-up over the next few days.
Goodbye, denizens of the void. It’s been nice talking at you.