“I’m so tired.” The whine of a child. We’re all tired, kiddo, I get it. There’s no rest for any of us these days and it isn’t fair. You’re welcome to cry about it, just do it on your own time, alright? Try not to drag anyone down to give you a leg up. I wonder if I have to keep hating myself for fucking things up the way I do. At this point, with this track record, you’d think I’d be inured to the disappointment. I’m not. I hate the idea of deciding that X is a fixed trait, all evidence to the contrary. I have to be capable of growth. I have to be capable of changing. At what point do I have to concede these things as immutable? I didn’t think that would ever be a consideration in my life, as far as my Self went. But maybe it’s time to call it and work for solutions from that angle instead of living with this inescapable self-loathing. Am I a bad person for struggling with this and never being able to break a cycle? Is that just deciding I don’t want to be responsible, and is that a sin in and of itself? I never considered myself enough of whatever trope would justify saying “I need a handler” and just letting someone else (who, even? lol) handle the things my brain refuses to set in stone. Not enough the distracted artist or mad genius. Just some comically inept court jester prancing around pretending to be a capable adult. Dad’s always made sure to have someone around who makes sure his money and medicine are handled because he can’t be bothered. He makes the money, he is moving at all hours, his mind a restless machine. He’s worth it. I’m just a brat who absolutely does not want her freedom infringed upon in any way and that is fucking ruining my way forward. I don’t want to be so bullheaded that I destroy good things. Certainly don’t want to be married just to have someone make sure I don’t bankrupt myself. Just let me make the money, take all of it from me and make sure bills are paid and some is saved and let me have whatever’s left to spend on frivolous bullshit that makes me happy.