Mario Villalobos


I’m afraid of myself sometimes. There are times when I’m so overcome with emotion that I truly don’t know what to do. I feel paralyzed, and that’s one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had because I feel like panicking and that’s stressing me out. My mind sometimes creates reasons to do things because they just feel right to do. I usually never stop to think about what I’m doing because the emotions coursing through my body just feel right. Why would I question that? Why would I doubt myself?

I’m so full of regret with some of the things I’ve done in the past few weeks, actions that have cost me dearly, that I’m on the verge of a breakdown. There’s this hollowness in my chest that is hard to ignore. I feel anxious to do something about it, but I can’t. That feeling is too strong, and I can’t go back to how things were. Those doors are closed forever, and I can never reopen them. I have to move on, but it’s hard when the road ahead is dark and unknown. But I have to.

I have to keep pushing harder. I have to take advantage of every day and live them (and life) to the fullest. And I have to stop making excuses. It sounds like maybe I’m being a little too hard on myself. Maybe I am. Maybe that’s what I need to do to see this thing through, whatever that thing may be. Regardless, I’m unhappy, and I know what needs to change, and, for the most part, I know how to change it. All I need to do is do. I need to move on, and the only way to do that is with time, and time’s all I have right now.

One of my biggest issues that time is not fixing is my seemingly inexorable loneliness. I feel like I have nobody here to go to anymore. One thing I didn’t realize before was how my former job clouded the fact that I don’t really have a social life here. That coworkers only tolerate other coworkers because they have to and not because they want to. For five days and forty hours every week, I would see the same group of people and we would laugh and fight and live with each other. That’s where I met her, and that’s where I felt socially fulfilled. It was enough for me, and that’s not something I considered when I quit. Do I regret that? Sometimes.

But look: my actions are forcing me to look at myself straight to my soul and ask, “Is this the life you want?” “No, it’s not.” “Then fucking do something about it.”