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Thoughts of Being a Loser in Life

I am 24 years old, jobless, penniless, and handicapped. I was pressured by my adviser to take a semester off from school. I am facing another surgery, for my nerves, and it may be in my arm or neck. I am in constant pain, going from doctor to doctor for tests, taking pills for the pain… I have not had a pain-free day in five years.

My point is this: I am in stasis. Not moving forward or backward. I still live with my parents, who treat me like a little kid sometimes (they are afraid of losing another child since my brother is… alive but not. It’s complicated). They pressure me to move with them in three years (I will be near fucking 30!!!) to Virginia, closer to the family that’s not so fucked up.

Sometimes I feel depressed about this, but not for long. I take medication for depression and anxiety, and honestly? I feel rather like a zombie. I don’t care about anything anymore, everything just is. I cut my hair off myself, much to my parent’s disappointment. Why bother paying thirty bucks for the same thing? I don’t care if my hair isn’t cut perfectly. I haven’t bought new clothes in years, and I have pretty much stopped wearing my bra and panties, even when I go out in public. I don’t care.

What is normal for me? 

Like Music

Hands in the proper position, fingers nimble for the right notes. Fluidity once moment; the next, harsh strokes of the bow and the painful thwack of pizzacato. Closing eyes and swaying your body like you feel possessed in the song’s gripping pianissimo, bending your body like bamboo in the wind. It is no longer you and an instrument and a composition; it is the harmony of the heart, soul, and mind in perfect resonance with one another.

I open my eyes to applause, and the quiet moment of peacefulness is gone.

I ready my instrument for the next composition, and it begins again.

"I wish everyone was tolerant and accepting, but that is not the world. Because I know this, I accept it. I try not to let others get to me because they have a right to their own opinions, no matter what I think or do.
“If we do not accept other people’s rights to their own opinions, then how will the world change?
Stephanie (Me)

“When I was your age, I had you,” my mother yells at me. “I was married and had a four year old. Not that I want you to instantly have children,” she says a bit more calmly. I know that’s a lie, but I don’t call her out on it. “I wish you had responsibilities.”

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