without saying fuck.
I can't talk about anything anymore without feeling like a complete fucking cliche.
I've spent a lot more time crying lately than I care to talk about, in the mornings on the way to work, in the evenings when I'm alone, in the back office when I know everyone else is on lunch. And it always looks the same; I curl up into as small a space as it is humanly possible for me to occupy, run my fingers through my bangs, press my palms into the sockets of my eyes, and cry silently. I let the tears run down my cheeks and onto my sweater, t-shirt, naked chest, whatever.
And it's all because I cause so much of my own stress by making all the wrong choices, doing all the wrong things, by being completely neurotic on all levels. The more I tell myself no, the more other people say no, the more I want to do it just to prove I can't be boxed in, to prove that I'm not a robot person. I am crushed under the weight of this, all this worry and stress and strain and sadness making me sick, giving me infections, making the knots in my back swell and tighten until it becomes difficult to move.
I never really learn, not really. I know what I'm supposed to do and what path to follow to make things easy for myself, but I can never bring myself to follow it. I'm all over the place.