“You’re such a drama queen.”
I will not claim that this label is inaccurate. Honestly, I despise how accurate it is– I crave attention and admiration more than I want to admit. I need an immense amount of validation. If that constitutes a drama queen, well, I am in no position to deny an accurate description of my nature.
In any case, here I am, trying to study but unable to focus on anything. I hate this about myself. I know my goals, and I know the actions that I need to take to reach them. But I don’t. I don’t do anything– I barely have the energy to think, let alone learn. I sit at my desk shaking from hunger yet I have no will to eat. The anxious part of me is trembling and screaming with fear over the exams I have tomorrow; that voice in my head that I can’t stand is lurking around corners and breathing down my neck while whispering “Larri, you fuck, you have to study– you can’t fail these exams– you can’t just sit here– stop being so fucking useless.”
The untameable urge to make something as simple as an inability to focus exponentially worse than it is– this unfailing excessive reaction to everything– is absolutely exhausting. It makes me a drama queen, which is a label that has a connotation that brings to mind “this person is an insufferable whiny bitch that makes everything about him/her.” Do I want to be that way? Of course not. But the reality is that I am.
This is not an inspirational or especially well-written blog post. If anything, it’s me attempting to make sense of the trains of thought that are just crashing into each other and setting fire to any sense of stability in my head. The reality is that I am a drama queen. I complain too much. Hell, I have a blog that literally only consists of complaining. Lately my mind has been obsessed with how lonely I feel. Sure, I went through a break up. Break ups happen. Why did mine make me so unstable? Why do I go to bed every night thinking of him, when it was very clear that, in his eyes, I am too flawed? The defiant part of me says “eh, fuck it. Life moves on. It’s not a big deal.” But the rest of me– the part of me that is slave to the tyranny of insecurity– is struggling to come to the same conclusion.
Yeah, I’m a fucking drama queen. Small insults that are meaningless make me want to immediately cease existing. I seek attention and affection to prevent myself from drowning in my own self hatred. Are those desirable qualities? No; I know this. Yes, I am bipolar– I know that dealing with someone who is bipolar is very taxing; I can’t blame someone for only viewing me as a drama queen.
I can’t deny how unstable, unsure, and unappealing I feel right now. I’m just waiting to get to the top of my sine curve so I can breathe again.