i hope not

It's almost humorous, to look at my last post and think I was under the impression things could go well for a while with nothing going wrong. Well, so much for that.
I'm listening to Joshua Radin, and I remember how much I used to love his stuff, back in high school...I'm so glad I got his album. Good stuff. And other than that I've been busy. Working, school, thinking, starting to work out and run again...etc. etc.

Not so much running, more like lightly jogging. My knee still briskly objects to running.

I'm not even going to pretend to small talk to my blog. Fuck it right. I hate this place. I used to love Norwich. I can no longer find enough redeeming traits here to keep me even remotely interested in the soul-sucking landscape. And trust me, I'm trying.

And also. I've discovered a few things about myself. Some which are slightly unnerving. I'm a sucker for pain. I mean really. It's like if things are going well for too long, I have to look for issues...and more often than not, they will crop up on their own. It's almost half voluntary and half involuntary, but the whole perception of the events precipitating could not be complete without both elements. And it is effective.

I am also not interesting anymore. I haven't read anything new. Or drawn. Or written. There is not anything special about me currently, I'm just another person in a grey uniform wandering around, trying to make it to graduation without completely falling apart.

I will attach myself to someone and run myself into the ground trying to make things work. Trying to explain myself. Trying to look around issues. But they always, like I said, crop up. But I will cling, hoping that I am enough, that I can fix things, that I can make it better. I couldn't the first time, or the second time, or the third time, and certainly, I am not enough now. Maybe I cannot clearly explain what's going on. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations of what it is to be loved. Either way I'm not sure if I am cut out for it. Certainly when I was 13 and sure I was going to be so into my career at 21 that I would not need a man or want children... I had something there. I only wish I still felt that way. That way the obvious absence and lack of ability to obtain these things wouldn't sting so much. But I am speaking from a certain emotional place, one that is a bit darker than normal, and quite pessimistic, and decidedly unsunny in comparison to my last post.

Every time you close a door and nothing opens in it's place, you've wasted.

My family is way ahead of me. Wow, hey, look at Tamara, first one to graduate college, first one to get a degree, she's smart, she can write so well...
kay. right. let me tell you how it feels to be me. it. feels. stagnating.

So. I will always wish that I can hold a man's attention. And I will always wish that I am lovable. And I will always wish I could call my father and hear him say, just one more time, how proud he is of me. Because for some reason once you pass the age of 18 people no longer think it's important to remind you. I will always want to be more productive, and less scattered, and more focused or physically fit. And come of these things are within my control, and some of them are not. But it's the knowledge that I find these things impossible to hang on to for longer than a few months that tortures me. Because I know that every time I feel happiness, and achievement, and that high that comes from being out of the tunnel and into the light, there will be another longer and darker tunnel ahead of me. Maybe not always. I hope not, anyway.
Maybe 21 years isn't enough to determine a pattern. But when your family members live to their 40s or 60s...you start to wonder.

Is this it?