A lament of current life

The more I live life, the more anxiety I feel and the further my depressen worsens. I work a job which I'm now unable to do as effectively as I once could due to certain complications that I have only just discovered and am struggling to adjust to living with. It's been easier recently, having had a little experience, but it doesn't make the fact it's never going to go away any less daunting. It's scary, but it's a unique way to live.

There is so little I expect from my endeavours, but the journey is always going to be enjoyable and I'm glad to spend my college life with people I geninely love and care about while doing something we all love; we're in it together and we're there for each other. That's the way it should be.

University is coming up, and that's the scariest milestone of them all. Finishing my course's second year this year will come soon enough, as will performing live on stage again for the first time with a new group of likeminded aspiring actors. It's thrilling and terrifying at once. You think you'll do bad, make a fool of yourself? It's okay. The audience doesn't know a mistake from the final script. They don't suspect a thing. Live in the moment, laugh it off in character and play with it.

I'd love to do this professionally. The reasons vary, but maybe it's because I want an excuse to be anybody but myself. I don't hate myself, but I enjoy being somebody else, too. I like the idea of experimenting with unlimited roles and opportunities. The more I do it, the more I want to chase it, and I'm already hooked on it. It's an addiction I'm happy to say has taken over and isn't as harmful as the previous addictions I've fought away and some I've almost lost to. I don't give up that easily.

I think about love a lot; whether or not I want it. Maybe I think I don't deserve it or perhaps it simply just terrifies me, and rightly so. If you don't respect yourself enough, don't expect your other half to fill in the blank. It doesn't work like that. You can give everything for love, and my biggest problem here is I can love things that don't love me back. It's a sick game at its core and often brings trauma than contentment. It's a rabbit hole I'm leaving buried for now, even if a minute section of my brain desperately demands a feminine touch in my life, cries for that companionship. No hands are going to touch me until I'm ready, and that's final.

Life is scary and I feel like I'm all alone in it with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to when I need somebody to understand. I tend to remain quiet and reserved because it's all most of us can do. There's no reason to speak when nobody's there to listen. Empathy is a thing of the past, in my eyes. It's a dying breed, same as sympathy. At least, that's my take on it all.