Guilt

When I don't want to do anything, I usually just flop around from couch to bed to chair to floor complaining about life and how I don't want to do anything.  Generally, the times when I don't want to do anything are the times when I need to be doing the most, which leaves a general ache of guilt in my stomach at all times, spoiling the whole effect of not doing anything.  Really, I never am not doing something, because for me, feeling guilty is sort of an active verb.  It's an all consuming, irrational kind of guilt, one that no logical thought can eradicate. It comes whenever I'm not doing something I am supposed to be doing, or when I forgot to do something, large or small.  It comes when I can't read someone's mind, and do what they want me to do.  It comes when no one cares about my actions, but somehow I convince myself that they do and that I have deeply offended them.  Essentially, it comes and never truly leaves, because it will be there until I never make another mistake again, which won't happen.  It's an interesting way to see who my true friends are, though.  Only those who are close enough me to somewhat understand me know how to talk me down from a Guilt Attack.  My mom, Andy, Karlie, Maggie, Erin, Lacy, Emily.  On a good day, I can talk myself out of them. On a bad day, I suffocate myself with them.  But on most days, I just live with them.  I wonder what life would feel like when you don't feel responsible for everyone else's happiness as well as your own.  When there isn't a whole weight of imaginary pressures and impractical goals.  Maybe one day I'll figure it out.