Since I have moved to Clarksville, I have undergone a whole host of changes in my character and quality of life. External influences, mainly including my roommates, surroundings, workplace, and relationships (though they be small in number), have both improved and imposed on my state of happiness in life. Although I would like to be positive and examine the successes and achievements of this past year, I cannot help but holdfast to my tunnel vision and focus only on the losses lying on the operation table of my mind.
It may have begun with my new job as a waitress, being placed in that vulnerable state as a newbie for four months and experiencing nothing but a lack of confidence in my skills and abilities to perform in a job as simple as taking orders and speaking politely to customers. I cannot blame my boss for his judgment of my performance at work, especially since it is his source of income and he means to keep it running smoothly without any complications. But I must admit that I have focused too much on what I would naturally consider his "harsh" words. They are not harsh at all, but I believe it is the consistent rate at which he used them during that long newbie-period that has had the most effect on me. I was, for an unnaturally long period, the cause of every mishap or complication in the building and as of now the habit of my co-workers looking to me to place the blame on has not completely worn off. I have a poor reputation at my work. I am the fool, the mindless idiot who makes "careless" mistakes. I have no right to feel offended by these facts, however.
During my self-incarceration as a "dunce" in the workplace, I came to experience alienation from my roommates. I have gone through it again and again in my mind, confiding in others in fear of misinterpretation on my part, wondering whether I was the alienator or not. I have resolved within myself time again about how I should feel in thought of how my roommates treat me, but I have never actually stuck to a certain revelation. Something else always redirects my attention back to the same distant feeling of alienation or difference I experience in their presence. I have seen Honoka's impression of me change over the course of these past seven months. I was perhaps impression-less at first, but quickly became a character of laziness, lacking responsibility, incapable of co-existing appropriately with her. I know I must be overthinking these situations, but I can't help it. It is so incredibly rare for me to feel normal or even comfortable in their presence. I avoid them at every opportunity and feel embarrassed immediately after our interactions. I can remember the time we all got drunk together and I stood talking in the middle of Honoka's spotless room, going on about some "what do I seem to you guys?" sort of vain nonsense. They were hardly engaged and the moment I realized this truth, several months later, I felt such a sense of embarrassed defeat that I gave up altogether. I've asked myself "why does it matter how they view me? Whether they like me or not...", deciding that I should be okay regardless. But then the fear of becoming a monster, unfazed by the opinions of others and morphing entirely into some type of immoral, messy, repulsive, and unempathetic creature redirects my motivations to the pursuit of becoming ultimately "liked", perhaps even "accepted". The truth is that no matter what, I care so much about what my roommates and even what my coworkers think of me to a point of total self-destruction. It is my fault. I make mistakes, go crazy with intense self-ridicule in their rue, try to learn from the mistakes, fail, then repeat the cycle. I'm better at cleaning up after myself, however.
Now, I somehow come to the conclusion that life means absolutely nothing. My existence means nothing in the grand scheme of things and in truth, the grand scheme of things means nothing too. This is where I consider the ultimate release: suicide. It is funny how I say: "nothing matters", but when I truly consider throwing away my soul, I fear hell and believe in it strongly. I will never kill myself and that too makes me hate who I am, all the more.
I hope that someday soon this long period of depression, having lasted almost two years with short periods of occasional joy and satisfaction, will soon break to a much longer period of bliss.
