Chapter 48: Consistency of Negativity
Empress & Her Spectacle: Consistency of Negativity
All my life, I’ve felt plagued with inconsistency when the reality is it’s just negative event consistency. Horrid loops of disappointment and realizing how alone you are in a big big world. Well, I’m tired of it. I’m pained by the realization that the support I’m looking for is as brittle as old bones. I look towards a vast universe and foolishly believe that something out there will make a positive difference in my life and end this low.
I realized that life isn’t pretty when I was left at school. No, this wasn’t an elementary school memory; this is a college-age one. I was left to expect someone to get me, but that person never came. All night they never did came, just kept telling me and encouraging me that they would. That’s not the pain that broke me. I’ve been left and forgotten for drugs before. It was just another loop in my life, a matrix scenario I was cursed to deal with forever. I just hated how consistent adverse events were in my life, and I hated how little control I had over them. I can preach about daddy issues with the best of them, but it’s not the only dark doom in my closet of troubled past.
What’s irritating about this pattern of unfortunate events one after another is that I’m not a Baudelaire orphan. I’m not the fictional character in one of my favorite series growing up. I’m a real flesh and blood human being trying to survive, minus the excess of finances looming in my future. The joke is I used to think that the characters of a book had it more relaxed, and less complicated. I often wished about having a life that could reduce to thirteen novels of fighting a grand conspiracy. Sadly, that’s just not it. Disappointment comes in many complex forms in my life. I wish that it would just stop.
In July, I had faced the death grip of quitting my office job, a death in the family, and significant social setbacks. I mean pride took hits in every facet of my life from writing to social. Right as things go smoothly, I realize that like any fairytale the clock strikes midnight. I didn’t expect these things to occur so quickly after one another, but it did. I tried to be honest about the things in my life to say that “hey I go through serious stuff” please stop sending positive energy through a screen. It would make a difference for someone to manifest and be there. That’s what I wanted. I wanted someone to be there. I didn’t want to be reminded of my failures in job hunting or securing income. I didn’t want to hear how my writing hasn’t gone viral. I didn’t want to hear that what I love is a hobby not worth investing in anymore. Perhaps that’s the saddest thing of all. Understanding that what I have faith in will be written off as a hobby, busy work, or something not worth investing time into. That’s the greatest disappointment of July. How frequently that rhetoric slipped from smiling mouths and in blue bubbles.
I want to see change. I don’t want to jump to the conclusion that my heart is stretching out to the wrong people. I hope that August is less dramatic. July felt like a stage where the monologue focused on disappointment and setbacks. I’m wary even more now, jaded over how and whom I choose to invest in. Will it restrict my opportunities if I take a sabbatical away from things? I know I can’t afford to, but a girl could dream. I’m just tired of waiting while people encourage me that there is more to come. It hurts. It wraps me in a bitter noose, and self-isolation is not the balm I recommend if no one respects your need for time properly. I hope for more, but I refuse to let this loop keep plaguing me with false encouragement. How I fight it, that’s the question August will have to answer.