Twelfth Night: Act 2 Scene 4
We men may say more, swear more, but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows but little in our love.
My whole life can’t amount to trying to impress my ex-girlfriend. I can’t live with the narrative that I am only an unrequited big nothing. But that’s what I live with every morning, noon, and night. And I’m supposed to be content with being a loser. Nobody makes me feel significant, and so, one might think that life is insignificant.
As a writer I do a whole lot of “soul searching” or introspection into the human psyche or the spirit. For as much thinking as do, I still have attention deficient disorder. But, it really gets exhausting. I’m not just talking about overthinking and looking up explanations on reddit. I’m talking about sitting alone with yourself for five years in the prime of your life in your hometown.
I’m so sick of looking at myself. I’ve been so sick of myself for so long. And no signs of change.
I don’t want to keep trying to figure everything there is to figure out about humans and this world. I don’t want to think about it all anymore. It just hurts, makes me sad, and reminds me of a time I don’t even think exists anymore.
Happiness doesn’t change facts, it just makes us forget about them. The problem is you can’t always ignore the parts that make life meaningful, however painful they always are.
P.S I think my ex-girlfriend has hacked my Spotify. So I’m crazy, too. But whoever is doing it, it isn’t cool to gaslight a person.
Ben Bonkoske 