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I'm really tired.



Things have been getting stranger, or at least, more difficult to handle. That's not really the right way to put it either. Things haven't been getting harder. More... Distant, maybe? More detached. That's probably the best way to put it. I've been getting more detached.



R-r-r-ramble.



I've been living on my own for somewhere around four months now. I've been doing okay, but as I've said, coming up here was nothing like I thought it would be. I've accepted that in some ways for now. There's more for us to do during the week, even though I don't really have any close friends in this city. Things are more interesting and active.



I've been unemployed for something like two months, and the shame's really starting to catch up with me.



I have savings, and that's what I've been living on. But I owe Rob money, even after giving him $550 for rent. The few thousand I had is going really fast, and I don't know why I'm so okay with that. It's like I don't even care that I'm going to be broke in next to no time at all. It's unusual, considering I've been so careful with my money up until recently. Something in me just sort of gave out, and I stopped caring.



I can't work up the motivation to do anything. I applied for a bunch of different jobs, but there's still a lot of places I could be going. I could go back and talk to places I've already applied at; let them know I'm really interested. But I'm not, so I don't. Because I don't care. I don't want to work, because I know I'm just going to get some stupid job that I'll be miserable doing. That's just a fact of life for someone like me with no college degree and no practical skills. But I can't seem to accept that.



"You work to live, not live to work". That's what my Mom always tells me when I express these kinds of concerns to her. That makes sense I guess, but it's why I don't really choose to talk to her about things like this. I'm ashamed of myself, because apparently somewhere in my head I truly believe that I deserve something better. But I don't. What am I good for? My life is going nowhere and I'm doing nothing to help myself. Whatever I get; that is what I deserve. And I suppose I deserve to go broke.



But I just don't care.



Despite being unemployed, for a time I was really enjoying my day-to-day life. I was exercising regularly, getting back into artsy things, and having fun with the people that I know. It was a nice vacation, even if I wasn't the slightest bit entitled to it. Now everything seems to be becoming toxic. Exercising just feels like a waste of time again. Art does as well. My drums still fight for my attention and affection, but some times I can't even force myself to play them for long. And maybe it is all because I'm so sick of what I've turned into; this lazy, useless thing that just expects something good to fall into its lap.



I've really got nothing to inspire me right now. I'd venture to say that I've got nothing to live for either, but if I were to tell anyone that, I imagine they would just tell me to stop being melodramatic. I want to talk to someone. I want help. But I don't really know who I should talk to about any of it. What would you say if some lazy, good-for-nothing twenty-year-old like myself came up to you and said "I can't get motivated to do anything anymore. I can barely force myself out of bed when I wake up. I'm scared about it, but I don't know what to do"? I imagine any sensible adult would just laugh in my face and say "Welcome to life! DEAL." and I imagine any of my friends either wouldn't take me seriously, or just wouldn't have anything to respond with.



I was told, ever since I was a child, that I was destined for great things. A teacher that I hated in high school and was constantly at odds with still went as far as to call me her "Sleeping Millionaire". I guess because of that, I felt that I would always have some sort of direction to follow. But ever since my love for drawing became completely distorted, my endeavors have become far too spread apart. I'm talented in many different things, but most of them honestly came pretty naturally to me. They didn't require a lot of "work", so to speak; if I enjoyed them, I practiced them on occasion.



I've been writing poetry for ten years now because it's therapeutic and enjoyable for me, but it still manages to totally slip away from me from time to time. I used to draw fanatically, all the time. I never thought that there would be a time when I would stop. But upon going to high school, and seeing how much better so many people were than me, I guess it just discouraged me enough to put a stop to that. Since then, art has been nothing more than a hobby that I only take part in every few months or so. I hate that I've lost my passion for art; I hate it so much that it makes me fucking sick to my stomach some times, but I can't figure out how to bring it back. If I could, then I would be able to get back on track with my life. But I just don't think there's any recovering it.



And now I'm a drummer, who's just sort of mediocre but also happens to be the only serious drummer in a group full of musicians. It's nice to have a role to play, and it's nice to have a hobby that I really can share with my closest and most loyal friends, but for a time I thought that it truly would be my new driving passion. And I just don't really think that's the case either.



I know my parents are disappointed in me. I can't imagine why they wouldn't be. I've turned out to be a good person, at least, I like to think so. But they want me to be successful; to have a degree, a career and a family. And right now, all of those things are so painfully out of my reach. I can't even motivate myself to get a fucking job to pay my own bills - how the hell am I supposed to find the drive to suddenly find true direction in my life?



I think I'm supposed to settle.



And I guess I'm just not ready to concede to that.



If you're going to go to college, strive for a career, all of that nonsense; shouldn't you be reaching for something that you truly care about? I don't care about anything anymore, and I'm not going to waste my time and money on going to school for something that I just don't really have any opinion on. I'd just fail, like last time, and be in an even more pathetic place than before.



When I was a child, drawing and video games were the two things that I was primarily interested in. But as strange as it sounds, even at a young age, I also really wanted to fall in love, and have someone fall in love with me. I thought about it all the time; at least, ever since the word "love" became significant to me. I've never really had a way with women but past a certain point, I generally had a girl in my life. Everyone feels better when they know that they're in someone else' thoughts, and maybe that's all I could say as well. But when I had a girlfriend, especially one that I was really falling for, life just felt like it had meaning again. I have friends, and family, both who love me and treat me extremely well... But I guess that just isn't enough for me.



This is the longest I've been single since I first started dating, all those years ago. My views on the subject have shifted considerably, and I don't really know if I should be frightened of what the results may be. Lately, when I look at a girl and think of the possibilities, I automatically fast-forward my thoughts to what the end may bring, and how it may brutalize me once more. I'm scared of ever going through another breakup like that again. I didn't think I was going to live through it, and it's obvious that I'm just not who I was before it all happened. Some things about me certainly got better, but some things certainly became worse. I find myself even being somewhat sexist these days, because all of the girls I know just keep letting me down. And now when I think of a girl, I think of a person who just isn't to be relied on.



I'm sick right now.



I have the flu, or one of the other-worldly variations of it. My Dad has it in my head that I may die of it, considering Swine Flu has been making its round throughout the country. I do feel a little better every day, but he's made me paranoid. I don't have medical insurance, so no matter how bad it gets, I'm just going to keep insisting that I'm better. I'm not going to go to a doctor's office so that he can rip me off and leave me desolate and broke, especially considering there probably won't be much they can do. If I die of, which I don't think I will anyway, then I guess it was my time. Or something.



I keep thinking that a solution to all my problems will come to me. I don't really know how to look for it. I don't know how to spawn drive or motivation. I don't know how to figure out a direction for one's self. I don't know what to do. I came here to get away from my home and all of the problems tied to it that I just couldn't figure out a solution to. But nothing ever works out the way that it should, and here I am, with problems that only serve to make me seem like an even sadder person than I was back home.



Congratulations, I've reached a new low. And I don't really know when I'll be able to rise again.



Thanks for listening.