It’s a funny thing… when I was younger, I used to stay up at night with flashes of inspiration; whether it was design work and specific projects I was working on, or music, some lyric or piece I was suddenly motivated to write. Now I’m kept up at nights by reminders of my own stupidity and just how much a failure I have become.

I’m so frustrated to be such an idiot. All the mistakes I’ve made, all the people I’ve hurt or have hurt me. I stay up at nights lamenting my failures as a father, my shortcomings as a boyfriend, all the seemingly wasted years I should’ve been in school or applying myself in productive ways. All the stress, all the anxiety I suffer is my own fault, and my own doing, and it doesn’t – it can’t – relieve the nausea, the constant pain in my gut.

Where is my head? Where is my heart? Why did I have such a better hold on myself eight and ten years ago than I do now? I fear more as more as time goes by that I’m simply reverting to the practice of pretending to be okay around others.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

  • About

    My name is Bobby.

    I write about random things a lot. I write a lot about random things.

    I write occasionally for Smashing Magazine and the London Community News online, and weekly for Interrobang, the student voice newspaper at Fanshawe College in London, Ontario.

    I've also been published by the Canadian University Press.
  • Archives

  • Categories

  • Enter your email address to follow this blog!

%d bloggers like this: