On Sartre

I'm stuck in the first verse.

Conceptually I can never get past the beginning of anything. It feels like no matter how far I think I have come I have just been treading water this whole time. The only comfort is that someday this can be used as a reasonably honest record of mental instability. I think there would have to be an "after" to get to if I were ever to utilize it myself. It's hard to structure a narrative with no ending- just bleeding problems into problems without resolution sounds torturous. Life is torturous.

The newest expanse of my hellscape comes in the form of this dilemma: my position is being eliminated.

My boss is kind. She is scary in some ways. Very pretty. Very tall. She's the kind of adult I dream of being but will never be self-confident or white enough to grow into. I am uncertain of whether she thinks I am as useful as she says. She was kind though, and tried to spin the move in the nicest way possible. Nice, but realistic. And I was characteristically a spaz. They said I could think about it. I told them I liked it there and had no reason to want to leave, I mumbled something odd about how I could probably have left if I wanted to, because I can't process my thoughts and panic at the same time. I find this is a moment when I need an adult. But I don't know any adults very well.

There have probably been many moments where I could have used some guidance but had no idea of where to go. This has to be a common problem among people my age. Either you are stuck in this cycle of grasping, clawing, at ever intangible dreams or you simply have it all together and quite quickly climbed the corporate ladder and are indispensable. How I long to be indispensable in any capacity in any aspect of my life. I am quite a disposable person. Something to be used, ignored for a bit, and allowed to rot and mold- making everything around me a little less clean as I sit, forgotten. That's not a good analogy, I just wanted to write that particular scene. I'm more like a tissue- necessary in some ways, but usually not as effective as you would hope, often disappointing, and ultimately gross garbage. I just dream of being used to remove glittery make-up.

So, here I am. I have been with this company about a year. My position fluctuating the whole time. Doing somethings I really enjoy, and some things that I kind of hate. The position I am being offered to transition into would be similar to what I already do, but established that that's just what I do. I would be someone who fills in for other people, and when not filling in I would get to do my own more fun projects. That seems reasonable, right? Although, the length of time I would spend in someone else's position temporarily would be fluid.

My fear is that in the last few months I have become quite mismanaged. I am not as capable as I used to be, I think. I have become increasingly overwhelmed and I don't know how to deal with the voices in the office. If I get brought into the fold and I don't do well people will resent me more than they do now. With better reason. I am not as adept at juggling things as I once felt I was. Like Ariel's stupid fish buddy, I flounder.*

I need an over-all semester GPA of a 2.6.

I am back to under 165, which is not the least I have weighed (even recently) but is better than edging to 170. These are facts. Facts of things that I can focus on, work toward and accomplish.

I'm a mess. I have been doing well in Duolingo for 19 days. I have been practicing Korean regularly for 16 days. I pulled out a chunk of my own hair. I spent too much on Starbucks this week. There is no end in sight. Suddenly my decision to read No Exit this week seems both poignant and untimely.


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