I Am Nothing, Only Nothing
by Noise Pollution
I’m so goddamn scared that I’m not good at anything. And I need to be. I need to be good at something. Not even for the sake of having a career, although that’s not totally irrelevant, but for the sake of staying sane. I need something in my life that I can look at and feel accomplished.
I don’t have anything like that right now. I look at the body of my writing work, and when compared to people I respect, it all seems mediocre. There’s nothing about me that stands out.
I’m coming to terms with the fact that I am utterly average. I’m probably even below average. I’m not good at anything. No, you don’t understand. I’m not good at anything. I’m an average writer, a sub-par guitar player, a sub-par lyricist, a sub-par philosopher, I can’t solve puzzles or riddles, I’m not as smart as I think I am, I’m a bad driver, I’m slow at stocking shelves, I have a hard time understanding questions that are asked of me or directions that are given to me and often require people to repeat what they are saying multiple times in sentences worded multiple different ways before I have a grasp of what they’re trying to say.
I’m a bad listener, often simply waiting my turn to speak rather than actually investing myself in what the other person is saying. To that end, I don’t even have anything interesting or useful to say; most of my conversations with people involve me desperately searching for either a way to end the conversation or a way to not sound crazy, and I often fail to do either. I’m a terrible conversationalist.
I’m bad at marketing, I have no grasp on how to get the stuff I make seen by people, and the little I do know in regards to that involve behaving in ways that rub me the wrong way; the idea of me trying to advertise skeeves me out.
I also have an addictive and self-destructive personality. While for some unknowable reason I am 100% immune to cigarette addiction (I mean, I can smoke habitually for months and then quit cold turkey on accident, just because I keep forgetting to buy more; I’m seriously unaffected by them in that way) I am easily hooked on other substances and have a difficult time living without a “high” to look forward to.
I can’t even sleep properly. I have to wear a mask that breathes for me while I sleep, and even with that, I still don’t feel good when I wake up.
I’m bad at organizing and cleaning. I’m horrendously forgetful. I have no hold on my adult life; I’m not capable of managing it in a healthy way. I can’t finish anything I start. I’m bad at my hobbies. I’m bad at Magic: The Gathering, a game I play obsessively and sink ungodly amounts of money into. I’m lazy, and these days, I can’t even bring myself to read very often, something I used to spend entire days, sometimes even weeks, doing. I’m bad at hygeine, often taking all of the proper steps but still feeling unclean anyway.
I’m terrible at managing my time.
I can’t think of a single thing that I am even above-average at, let alone actually good at. This is distressing. It really drains me of hope for my future. I don’t think I have one. I think I’ve hit a wall, and there’s no getting over it. I’m done. I’m toast. I’m ruined. There’s nothing. There’s no way forward.