i am finally suffering from the jet lag. It is 3:15am and i am not in the least bit tired. In fact, my legs are sore (atrophying muscles most likely) and i cannot stop fidgeting in bed.
As i lie here, pressing my back up against the silver velour body pillow i have owned for just under 2 years now, i inadvertently catch myself reaching behind me in an absent-minded gesture of love towards a sleeping body that hasn’t been there in a very long time and won’t ever be again. These are not half-sleep wishful forgettings, but rather conscious thoughts manifesting themselves reflexively. I used to know who i was and why i was doing whatever it was i was doing. Right now, i feel adrift without even my circadian clock to guide me down the road that is supposed to be my life.
i am fearful of returning to the gym and having to confront what four weeks of sickness has undone of hard work. I am fearful of returning to school and having to confront my lack of motivation yet again. I am fearful of going home and having to confront my parents and their endless demands on my “feelings.” I am supposed to cry because my grandmother is dying goddamnit – not feel numb as though nothing at all had meaning. as if i can’t imagine suffering anymore pain, heartache and loss without giving in to the approaching oblivion. i don’t even have the willpower to give in to that oblivion. submitting is infinitely more easy than taking any steps.
At moments like these, i very seriously wonder at the soundness of choices i have made. choices that looked brilliant on paper, didn’t feel right at the time, but sounded sensical. you can’t rationalize emotions and perhaps self-destruction is better than self-doubt. There is, however, no turning back.
I’m afraid to continue applying to PhD programs. I’m afraid of getting accepted and having to commit to something for five years. I’m afraid of losing anything that lasts that long. I’m afraid of losing what little sense of who i am i still have to some new identity, place and role. Yet i want to throw myself with abandon into some project. To no longer have the time to lay here, fidgeting with achy legs, and questions, doubt and loathing.
I’m tormenting myself over how my actions have hurt other people and affected their lives. It’s
fun satisfying. I deserve to be miserable because i am a miserable wretch, ruining people’s lives left, right and centre, acting irresponsibly at the first sign of trouble. Incapable of self-control… i binge and gorge while silently loathing both myself and those who let themselves be manipulated.
I want an excuse. Something to make this state okay – and i find it in jetlag. How classic. Nothing has anything to do with me – everything is external. The world owes me something because i wasn’t born beautiful and rich – as if Canadian and passably attractive weren’t enough to open doors and overcome all obstacles.
THERE IS NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT – SO DRINK A NICE TALL GLASS OF SUCK IT UP AND FALL ASLEEP ALREADY!