God, I’m Feeling Fantastic And I Don’t Like It

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1956

Abstract

but honestly, you’re the only person who used to give me <i>any</i> attention. I miss you screwing up my life by giving me problems — all in my head.</p><p id="cbd5">Are you mad at me because I haven’t prayed to you for the last three months? Look, I burdened you with my prayers all my life. For once, I wanted to get my act together — by myself. I didn’t think it would <i>actually</i> work. I don’t think I <i>wanted</i> it to work. I didn’t pray for <i>your</i> own well-being.</p><p id="be25">Begging you for what I desperately want instead of working toward it myself is what always kept me going. I miss asking you for something which you have no intention of giving me.</p><p id="ca2d">I’ll tell you my paradox. I’m feeling horrible <i>because</i> I feel fantastic. Should I continue what I’ve been doing to feel more fantastic so I can feel more horrible? Does that make sense? Would that work to get back to my old pathetic self? That’s my only hope. Feeling hopeful will hopefully disappoint me eventually. Or should I pick the easier way — leave all of this and go back to<i> just</i> praying?</p><p id="7511">That Holiday dude is delusional. Maybe he should go on holiday. Get it? He said journaling every day would help me gain control of my emotions and improve my mental health. Wait! What if he’s right? Oh my God, I have to stop journaling all of this right now and go back to praying.</p><p id="5f59">I’m here, Deity. Let’s fuck me back up!</p><p id="4c13">Wouldn’t you rather be laughing? Follow <a href="https://medium.com/muddyum">MuddyUm</a> and <a href="https://medium.com/@srini-here">Srini</a></p><p id="9af4">Thanks to the crackerjack <a href="undefined">Stephanie Wilson</a> for her impeccable editing skills.</p><p id="429b"><i>If you want to write useless stories, you will find these incredibly useful:</i></p><div id="2d52" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/how-walking-helps-my-writing-ed0a74902

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Do you even exist?

Dear God,

What the fudge? It’s been a bizarre 91 days. I haven’t felt this way ever since I was born. Do you think — and it feels ludicrous to say this — I could be feeling fantastic? You have no idea how horrible I’ve been feeling at the same time because of it. Do they have a term for this condition yet?

It all started when I started doing meditation for eight hours a day and ten hours a night, and it’s only gotten worse since. Then again, did I really meditate those entire ten hours? I’ll never know because I slept like a log. What’s going on? Do you even exist? I miss my insomnia.

I’m sorry. That was disrespectful of me. Are you on sick leave, Almighty? Did someone from HR fire you? It can’t be. Don’t tell me you’ve resigned without any prior notice because you couldn’t handle the job pressure. What are you? A chicken?

Again, I’m sorry, Lord. For the last two weeks, whenever I’m not meditating, I’ve been reading stoicism. I feel wiser than Marcus Aurelius and Ryan Holiday combined. My mind is inexplicably calm, which is humdrum, to say the least. I legit miss anxiety and depression. Where’s the chaos when you need it? I miss my brain being a windowless prison.

I’ve been sober for exactly three months now. I’m no Hercule Poirot but I suspect sobriety has something to do with my peace of mind. Have you stopped giving me your undivided attention? I don’t mean to sound pathetic but honestly, you’re the only person who used to give me any attention. I miss you screwing up my life by giving me problems — all in my head.

Are you mad at me because I haven’t prayed to you for the last three months? Look, I burdened you with my prayers all my life. For once, I wanted to get my act together — by myself. I didn’t think it would actually work. I don’t think I wanted it to work. I didn’t pray for your own well-being.

Begging you for what I desperately want instead of working toward it myself is what always kept me going. I miss asking you for something which you have no intention of giving me.

I’ll tell you my paradox. I’m feeling horrible because I feel fantastic. Should I continue what I’ve been doing to feel more fantastic so I can feel more horrible? Does that make sense? Would that work to get back to my old pathetic self? That’s my only hope. Feeling hopeful will hopefully disappoint me eventually. Or should I pick the easier way — leave all of this and go back to just praying?

That Holiday dude is delusional. Maybe he should go on holiday. Get it? He said journaling every day would help me gain control of my emotions and improve my mental health. Wait! What if he’s right? Oh my God, I have to stop journaling all of this right now and go back to praying.

I’m here, Deity. Let’s fuck me back up!

Wouldn’t you rather be laughing? Follow MuddyUm and Srini

Thanks to the crackerjack Stephanie Wilson for her impeccable editing skills.

If you want to write useless stories, you will find these incredibly useful:

MEMENTO MORI

God, I’m Feeling Fantastic And I Don’t Like It

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How Walking Helps My Writing

Don’t write off walking

Stop Criticizing Celebrities For Climate Change

Taylor Swift is doing the entire human race a favor

You Should’ve Told Me You Were Really a Nun at the Halloween Party

Did you think it was nun of my business to know?