this… this was what you were meant to do. i think we all know it. because whatever this system is, it is growing like ivy up onto my skin. and all these beautiful things were supposed to make me happy… so why aren’t i happy? so why am i sinking into the quicksand, drowning in deadlines that i am soon to forget…
as the passage of time starts to bury me. and if anyone is listening, i need you to carry me, far away. from everything going on out there. so if you love me, let me go. if you love me, tether me up with some string and run as fast as you can on an open field, and watch as i begin to float. climbing higher, and higher, and higher,until i’m finally alone…
if you love me, tie my hands, and don’t look back. don’t listen, when i beg, and plead to be set free. take all my things away. and leave me, with an empty stomach. and a cold, glossy dinner plate…
and i’ll owe you. just like i always do. write it down on my calender. paralyzed by the thought of needing you.
Now I think about it, most of my life, I’ve been unable to shake the feeling of owing. Of so much as the ground beneath my feet needing to be paid off, somehow.
When I was little, I learned about money. My dad was an accountant, so I guess it was pretty natural to know all about taxes and stuff at an early age. He taught me about loans, and how I should almost never take one out, and instead make sure I was always the one giving out the loans to other people.
Of course, he never intended for that mindset to stick with me more ways than just financially. For me to take that theory and apply it to everything else in my life. I was a child, and honestly a really weird one at that–no one one could have predicted that kind of thing from the outside.
My mom bought me socks? My friend got me a birthday gift? I owed them. I owed them all. Somehow. I was in debt, and debt was bad, and therefore I had to do something for them in return to pay it off. Or… she wouldn’t love me anymore. My worth to other people was dependent on how much I could give, and honestly… sometimes it felt like I wasn’t going to be able to pay off my debt before it buried me alive. Now I think about it, that’s probably why I like to work alone.
Even now, with two jobs, I constantly feel like I’m drowning, just barely keeping my head above water. Like I have to churn out money faster and faster, take on as many hours as possible, so I can… God. I don’t even know. It’s dumb. But it’s also something I lie about late at night thinking about sometimes, so.
Realizing you’re worthy of the space you take up, without needing to justify it with your productivity… it’s hard. It’s scary, and confusing, and I don’t think I’ll be there for a really long time. But, I mean, hey, we’re all just trying our best. And eventually, we will get there. I guess.
Lots of love,