I have this little problem relating to the bigness of things. It's really crazy but I get completely depressed whenever I'm in a library or bookstore because there are just so many books that I could never ever read in my entire life. Even if I were some freakazoid-geek who woke up in the morning and read and read for the whole day for my entire life, I couldn't even get through half of the books in half of the world. And if I couldn't get through all of the books in the entire world my life is meaningless. That is what I think about when a thought related to books or reading crosses my mind.
It makes me so annoyed and annoyed+me is never, ever a good thing. Once I went to pick up my little brother at his school which is this super-supremo-deluxo place. They make so many resources available to those kids, they'll never even know it. I want to punch my little brother in the face everytime I see him for being so advantaged. I? Went to this rodent-infested, very prisonesque institution that was fenced in and guarded by police so that none of us could ever escape our misfortune. My own Mom wouldn't even come to that school because it stunk so bad. And that was after I got through my first year of high school at the trailor park annex. Hmph. Anyway. So I'm waiting for my little brother and I decide to pass the time in this massive library which I'm sure cost more than my high school plus that annex school all together. It's this huge, beautiful Public Library right on their campus. But I should have known to avoid it because libraries, especially big ones remind me of my smallness and make me depressed and really get on my nerves. So I'm all nervous and annoyed as it is and some know-nothing librarian starts blathering to me about something or other and in my nervous-annoyed state I decided that I just wasn't going to let her continue, and instead took a stand for myself and the rest of the Broward County public. And then she called security, and I won't be going back there ever.
Not that I would want to. And this relates back to the bigness problem. Even reading makes me frustrated. I get lost in my thoughts. Fast paced speed-racer thoughts that will.not.stop. Every sentence triggers a train of unrelated thoughts. My mind is like this little kid that keeps wandering away the second that I turn my head. A little kid with ADHD who sometimes laughs hysterically and other times won't stop screaming. And no matter how many times I reach out to it and plead with it to please, pretty please just hold my hand for one minute, it wiggles away. It always comes down to this horrible small feeling.
The thing with books and libraries it's just one example. I want to melt into a puddle whenever I get started thinking about anything because I know that momentarily it will be like BAM!, BAM!, BAM! Thoughts hitting me upside the head. And that feeling of smallness that is always at the end of the BAMs -it's so suffocating- will smother any interest I had in doing anything for the rest of the day.
All of those words don't even express the teeniest fraction of all of the thoughts that fly through my mind. Just as quickly as I think, sinking into my heart is this horrible, disgusting feeling. I would write that I can't even describe it, it's overwhelming to try. But when other people go on describing something by saying that they can't even describe it I think it's so dumb, so I'll try. It's this gross feeling that says to me, Michelle, you aren't ever going to be everything that you want to be and even if you were to set out to be what you want to be Everything changes. Nothing matters, especially not you. That didn't even do it, but it does give you an idea.
So anyway, It's not that I don't know that God is good and life is beautiful. I know that there are a lot of good things in the world.
But everytime I come across one of them I'm reminded of the largeness of things and the littleness of me and wind up wanting to swallow a gallon of bleach.