i have nowhere else to put this, so here i am, back to deeply scream into the void under a readmore. a year-plus of unemployment has not suited me. i am exhausted, desperate, more anxious, more volatile, not myself. i have lost so much during the pandemic â my job, my apartment, my best friend. i am tired. i am so fucking tired.
today i got the news that i didnât get an internship i really, really wanted. was really suited for, the folks i spoke to clearly liked and were impressed by me. i was so prepared, so knowledgeable. and i didnât get it. and definitely that on its own is upsetting, but itâs that on top of the constant stream of failure and rejection. and iâm not being picky, iâve gone out for hourly jobs only to be told a number thatâs not livable, only to be told they liked my interview but donât have a position open right now. (what a waste.) itâs been a year of this, being told iâm somehow not good enough, that iâm âa strong candidateâ and it was âa tough decisionâ (which by the way, only makes us feel fucking worse, because then itâs like what was the tiny deciding factor? what made me inadequate?) but all of it going nowhere. âjobs arenât everythingâ right but they ARE, thatâs the thing, in the society we live in. i am lucky that i can live at home, but i feel horrible. all the time. i need independence, i need stability, i need to feel like myself, and i have none of that right now. no indication that i will regain any of it, either.
and i canât talk about it to anyone. because my friends and family donât know what to fucking do with me. i can tell they donât. they nod sympathetically and say theyâre sorry and tell me it sucks, and i know they do mean it, they want to be there for me, but i also know some part of them is thinking thank god iâm not where she is. they donât know what to do with me. if they knew the extent of what feels like the fucking gaping hole in my brain and ribcage they would go running. every time i make the conscious decision to even slightly unspool with someone, i regret it, because i get those dead or careful eyes, the sorrys, the âitâll get better,â and you know what? it hasnât. it just hasnât. so i just donât. because when i do they look like frightened animals, and that just makes me feel fucking worse. i say âit is what it isâ and i move on. because thatâs all i can do, at this point.
iâm so tired. i donât feel like myself, i havenât for a year. i feel like iâve been playacting a version of myself that is palatable and makes sense to people, when really i am this fucking nightmare creature that is both terrifying and repulsive. i keep looking for reasons to wake up in the morning and honestly, honestly, none of them are enough. i love the people in my life but theyâre not enough against this all-encompassing fucking void. this sense that it will never get better, because it hasnât, so why would it now. itâs just not enough. none of it. none of it.
