Now I Begin a (Brief) Inspired Tear of Productivity pt. 4

So now I will attempt to salvage my blog by working the hardest tonight that I have worked in a while. Just because I'm promising that myself now. I promise myself lots of things, actually, but hopefully by publishing this one on the internet, by having it etched in stone, to a degree, I will feel more obliged to actually follow through. It's 10:39 PM as I write this word, it was 9:58 PM when I started. Usually, after one hour of work that I find unpleasant I excuse myself such undesirable activity and go roll around in my own shit. That would be about... eighteen minutes from now. But I am telling myself right now that I am not going to stop writing until I've written for four hours.

I'm going to hate it. But this could be a breakthrough. Breakthrough. Breakdown, this might look a lot like a mental breakdown, reading this blog entries. I certainly sound very frustrated, lots of swearing and questioning of my life's worthiness. More than anything, I'm very tired. I'm tired and kind of upset and yet strangely still just melancholy. I feel like I'm doing a very good thing right now yet I can't shake the feeling of melancholy that chases me everywhere I go. That's a bummer. I want to feel good about doing this; about being productive. Maybe that would be an incentive to change my ways, if I felt like working towards my future meant shit at all. People always say, "oh, but you feel so good after you get finished", in regards to homework. I don't get that good feeling. On the rare occasion that I do in fact complete an assignment at home, I will just kind of go "okay" and then go back to being unproductive.

This sounds so stupidly pompous and self-absorbed; that these are the problems that consume my life. To someone that has been given less in life than me, and that has had to work for everything they have, I would have no doubt you probably want to punch me in the face after reading this. I would tell you that "it's okay, because I want to punch myself in the face, too" and that would make a nice piece of poignant writing and would perhaps at least elicit the slightest amount of pity from said hypothetical reader, but no. That's not true. I don't want to punch myself in the face, I love my face. I love me. Right now, the only thing I really want to do is play Madden or something, something that would make me happy. I don't want to punch myself in the face at all.