Matejko, Jan. Stańczyk (painting). 1862. Oil on canvas.
Image source: Warsaw National Museum, Warsaw.
Content Warning: depressive thoughts
By Quincy Jackett, Staff Writer
Today, I feel like such a fool.
I keep making mistakes. Minuscule mistakes that no one will ever remember, yet I will never forget.
I woke up in a sweaty panic with dried mascara trailing down my cheek. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the foolish things I did the night before. I always tell myself that I am so bored—I want to do more. Meet more people, experience new things, get out there and live. But when I do, I am consumed by The Judgement and left sickened by my own presence. Last weekend, I woke up in the same panic as this morning—oozing with regret and feeling like a fool. I hate that I am obsessing over such puny events. The only thing foolish about me is this self-imposed shame I keep endlessly pulling from my sleeve. My overthinking has done me great harm. I need to unlearn… I couldn’t get out of bed, but I couldn’t fall back asleep. Every time I shut my eyes, I relived another cloudy moment from the night before. Every image that popped into my head was me doing a jig and juggling to a crowd while wearing a cap hung with bells. I have so much work to do today, yet I will probably end up just complaining about it and taking myself on a long wasteful walk. The worst part about last night was I didn’t even do anything that bad. I genuinely just had a good time, but I feel unable to accept that. For some reason, I think that last night I should have been crying and stressing myself out over short-answer midterm questions, not dancing on tables and drinking from the bottle. I hate the way I think. I miss my golden brain. I also need to write that essay at some point this week. Why should I feel foolish for having fun? Let me be free like the big-bellied bumblebees sucking sticky tea. Maybe I just need a hug and some reassurance. Or a lap to crawl on and share sobs and stories of suffering with no poetic scheme or censorship. All I did today was think poorly about my decisions and make a to-do list of how I will rebrand my life. Four different uncompleted “Life Rebrand” drafts are sitting on my desk right now. All of them were written due to previous morning crises after a not-so-foolish night out. I hope one of these mornings I wake up content and fulfilled, rather than ashamed and frantically deleting text messages. Will I ever learn, or am I destined to remain this sad, silly girl with nothing but worries and wombats, squatting in solidarity in my shackled mind? This morning was miserable, but I can’t dwell on it any longer. I have weeks of readings to miraculously complete in the next two days, yet all I can think about is how I want to see the ocean and try milk from a coconut.
