While the problem could in fact be at that emotional level, it actually feels like I'm tired in a way transcending all three. Not physical, not mental, not emotional. Like, spiritually, or something. Where I just am detached from everything, and yet attached to everything, all at the same time.
My mind goes hectic, racing about everything, everywhere, but there's a disconnect between it and reality of doing anything, where I drift off into the world of "this is what I want to have done" rather than "this is what I'm doing". Because what I'm doing is a flat load of nothing.
Really struggling to get things done.
I'm not overwhelmed.
Well, I have a little bit of that, between working the same long shift every single day and the amount of time/effort devoted to my extracurricular activities. (Such as playing, or rather far more time-consuming, moderating, mafia games.)
But the simple fact is, when all is said and done.
I have a lot of time free.
And I waste it.
And more than that.
I often lie.
Sometimes, directly to people's faces.
I say I don't have the time, when I do.
I say I haven't read, when I have.
But while those are things which should be lies, they don't feel dishonest. How could those things which aren't truths yet be spoken not be the dishonesty? Because the real dishonesty comes more in a deeper level. A level of character. Where I am lying to myself about the problems.
Where it's just so hard to do things, for no apparent reason. So I decide not to do them.
In part out of a sense of perfection; I seek it when I do things, in spite of knowing I can never have it.
In part because of the time and effort.
In part because of inertia, of momentum having halted to a crash.
In part because of a sense of detachment.
Not in that I don't want to be there, because it's the opposite; I want nothing more than to be there.
But more because of a not wanting to do the thing associated with being there, and a detachment, disparity, between what I want to be there and what would actually be there. Because what's actually there is work, effort, hard stuff for me to handle; what I want to be there is me genuinely giving my all to give the absolute best, to give something as close to perfect as possible, so that things are positive and people, other people, feel better.
A great amount of my desires are born from some sense, deep down, of altruism. I want to help others. I want to give them something. I want to show them the best I have. I want to deliver something they enjoy. I want to have everyones' lives just be better because of me.
But I also have a deep sense of selfishness. I want others to have been helped by me. I want to prove that I can give it to them, that I live up to it, that I can do what I promise. I want to have done something, and have it be done by me, and that something be positive.
I'm in a bit of a rambly mood. I don't really have a direction with this. No greater purpose. Nothing tying this all together. I'm just kinda venting my thoughts out, pouring my heart out, and more or less trying to figure out why I am continuing to be a failure.
The more and more I dream of success, the further and further away success seems to be from me.
The more and more I want to help others, the less and less I feel I actually am helping them.
The more and more the thought of doing good exists, the less and less there's a reality of any good.
And I don't know how to fix it.
It's a problem.
I don't have a solution.
So many things I want to do.
And so few things, I am actually doing.
I'm existing, but only just.
I'm trying to find a way to put a positive spin on this. I've been toying with various things. Writing a song (which I've toyed with but never doubled down on doing). Rambling about all the reasons I'd have to, say, not do my job--and then at the last second, giving the twist for why I am committed to keeping going in it in spite of the hardships. Stuff like that.
But while those thoughts keep me afloat, it's hard for me once more to actually put them down and extrapolate on them.
A perfect example of "the more the thought exists, the less the reality does", in that the more I am thinking about such things, the harder it's becoming for me to actually blog about those things.
I don't want people to worry about me right now, because I don't want to be in a state which is worth worrying about.
I want to be in a state where I am at my prime, and doing what I do best. (Which is, at least in theory, being. Well. Me. And doing the things that I do. Like, uh. Generate stories? Tie interesting concepts together in new ways unique to me, e.g. the sort of person who would tie the four fundamental forces to the four classical elements?)
I don't want to be in a position where people have to give me advice, where people have to give me support, where people have to give me positive feedback and encouragement. I shouldn't need those things. I shouldn't need to have an ego fed, I shouldn't need to be propped up, I shouldn't need to be helped.
I should be the one doing that for others. Where I'm giving them support, even love.
Which makes it all the more pathetic that I do see myself as being in that position--where I constantly need others to tell me what I should be able to tell myself. I should be able to tell myself that I'm not a failure; I should be able to tell myself I'm not pathetic.
But right now, I certainly don't have it in me, because that's the way I'm feeling.