“In the end
You dig yourself the hole you’re in
When you don’t know what you want
You just repeat yourself again
In the end
You just repeat yourself again
When you don’t know who you are
You dig yourself the hole you’re in”
– Gotye, Dig Your Own Hole
I feel like I’ve been lying to you. This novel has been a convenient way for me to avoid addressing the truth, one I’ve been all-too happy to indulge. The truth is I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’ve stagnated. Or technically I’m still stagnant, because this is nothing new. I have no plans whatsoever for my future, yet I write and share this novel under the happy little assumption that one day I’ll have it completed. Only the thing is I still haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to kill myself.
We can make claims to understanding or claims to acceptance all we want, but those claims don’t mean shit all when you find yourself back in that hole. All the understanding you thought you had, all the things you tried to accept, it all comes rushing back in and before you know it you’re buried in the ghosts of issues you thought you’d resolved, a victim of cruel irony.
I don’t see a future for myself. I have no plans, no goals, no motivations or aspirations. Sure, there are things I would like to see and do and accomplish, but wanting something and wanting something to the point where you’re actually willing to work towards it are two very different things. I don’t feel like I have anything worth living for. It’s easy to overlook that fact when you’re doing shit all, spending your days watching television and reading books and writing, but the second you’re forced to confront the idea of any kind of future you begin to realise that you have nothing worth fighting for.
I don’t know why I am the way I am, why I can’t think about the future, about anything as simple as getting a job without feeling like throwing up. Was I born this way? Was it something I experienced while growing up? Is it that I don’t want to feign normality when normal is the furthest thing from my mind? Is it that I don’t want to commit myself, to act like I might be invested in this life when most days I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if it all just ended? Or is it as simple as I’m a lazy little shit, hiding behind melodramatic and cynical excuses in denial of my true nature?
I don’t know that I’ll ever find the answer, and to tell you the truth I’m sick of looking. The why of it may forever elude me; the only question I should be concerning myself with now is: “what am I going to do with my life?”
As much as it pains me to even think about it, as much as I want to hide from all responsibility and conflict, I need to make a decision. And yet…
And yet this is nothing new, and this isn’t the first time I’ve chastised myself for not doing anything about it. What’s worse is it probably won’t be the last, either. I’m stuck in a rut I don’t know how to get out of, caught in a cycle I can’t seem to break. If my problem is summing up the willpower to do anything then how can I solve that problem if I can’t sum up the willpower to do it? The solution is the problem, what I need is what I lack.
Or are these just more excuses, reasons I’ve come up with so that I don’t have to try? Am I self-aware or in denial? Am I trying to find the source of my flaws or simply justifying them? Do I even want to change?
I don’t know.