The Hell Butterfly

So I got to thinking …

My life really isn’t that bad.

Most days, I hate my life. I can’t keep friends, I have so many anxieties I find functioning like a regular human being impossible, I’m a depressing, un-pretty twenty year old that can’t get a guy to like me. My eating patterns are fucked. My sleeping patterns aren’t much better. I’m supposed to be smart but I can’t seem to understand anything. Most of the time I don’t even want to try to.¬†Some days I don’t want to get out of bed in the mornings (or even afternoons). Other days I’ll skip a lecture because ‘it’s dark and miserable outside’.

I think maybe I want something to be wrong with my life. Maybe that’s my problem. If something was wrong, I could justify feeling this way.

I have my family: my older sister is so smart and is always prepared to be open with me; my younger sister has so much potential that I love to see her work at and she, too, is always there for me; my parents are still together after 25 years. Sure, my Dad is always busy and doesn’t always pay attention and my Mum can be an emotionally-hurtful drunk, and true, it’s hard to be honestly open with them. But they’re good people. They provide a roof over my head, food on the table, money to support me at university and I know they’ll back me in whatever I want to do.

I can do things when I put my mind to them. I used to be smart – that’s what I tell myself. I used to be smart. I once did a test for dyslexia, just because. Of the four categories my assessor pointed out to me I scored Above Average in three and High in the other. I have the potential to be smart still, that is clear. I can also write, when I want to. I have so many ideas and so many unfinished works that I want to finish. The problem is, I lack the motivation to do it.

I do have friends. I know a lot of wonderful people that do like me. I think I take them for granted – no, I know I do – because they are wonderful people who I am honestly lucky to have grown up with. Just because they are moving on with their lives, and I don’t seem to be, doesn’t mean they aren’t still fantastic people who I should be glad to call ‘friend’.

So when I think about it, no, my life isn’t all that bad. Not when you consider the homeless, the poor, the orphan, the terminally ill, the mentally ill. These people struggle so much every single day. Life for them is so tough but somehow they make it through. I am so proud of every person in the world who has such difficulties and manage to do it, whatever it is.

So I ask myself – why can’t I enjoy my life? Why can’t I put my potential to good use? Why do I take for granted the wonderful people, and rare opportunities that the world has given to me? The answer is: I don’t know. I have everything I could ever want. Everything anyone could ever want. So why can I not appreciate it?

As of today, I hope I can find the answer. Starting from now, I will begin to look for the sun when all I see is cloud, I will grab life by the proverbial balls and do something – anything – with the precious time I have. It’s the least I can do.

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