I’m a sack of shit

I’ve been writing a fair bit lately, which is good, but what’s not good is that everything I write invariably gets saved and filed away under “not good enough to publish”.

You’re not to know this, but I sit down to write a blog post pretty much every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. But lately it’s getting harder and harder to click the little blue ‘publish’ button and send that thought out into the universe.

I like writing on this blog. I talk rubbish and sometimes people seem to like it. It’s much easier to write things down here in very much a brain-to-screen format, that is, very little filtering in between what I’m thinking and writing, as opposed to attempting to structure some work of fiction or tell a story.

I’ve been feeling a bit down lately, which is normal, but this particular period of relative down-ness has a lot more to do with feeling extremely anxious and weirdly guilty a lot of the time. Sprinkle that with a dose of having literally no energy to do anything, and you have my current state of being.

I’m whining, I know, and it’s pathetic, but it’s human.

Something that used to really bother me was that whole ‘first world problems’ thing. “First world problems” by the way, is a relatively new phrasing for that concept. When I was younger, we always used “kids starving in Africa” to make each other feel bad about feeling bad.

I guess that’s not so PC anymore.

But anyway, it used to bother me, and I think the reason why is that every sadness deserves, nay, demands to be felt. And it doesn’t matter if your sad because your favourite TV show got cancelled, or if your sad because your best friend won’t call you back. That sadness and feelings of unhappiness are as real and worthy as any, I think. Like any sadness, it’s not the feeling that should be scrutinised and criticised, but the way you deal with it. But all people, regardless of their level of suffering, have the right to feel sad.

At the moment, my anxiety levels about going to university are peaking. And I am fully aware that it’s stupid, that I should be fucking over the moon to live in a country where going to university is something I can do, something I feel as though I have a right to do, something I am encouraged to do, and something I can access and afford to do. I am grateful for this, but that doesn’t make me feel any less stressed about moving to a new city, about how I’m going to afford to live, about the humungo sack of debt I’m stocking up, about whether I’ll get a job with this degree, about if I actually want the kind of job I could get with this degree, about not knowing what job I want.

So I’m a bit stressed about all that, and I feel a bit guilty about the stress.

Another dumb thing I’m feeing anxious about is the fact that I am a very, very lucky person. In terms of quality of life, I drew the long end of the stick by far. And yes, I am narcissistic and stupid enough to feel bad about this.

I feel bad that I’m lucky. I feel bad that I have a life that’s good. My parents are loving and supporting, I’ve never struggled to find a job or be able to earn money when i needed to, I’ve always been able to save up and therefore do fun things like travel and buy nice things from time to time, I got good grades in school and the future looks bright. And I feel guilty about that. I feel guilty, because it doesn’t feel fair. Like I ought to be suffering more, and giving more, and being more generous.

So first world problemy, but it’s been on my mind lately and the anxiety is starting to get to me a bit.

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