Am I Enough?

I always ask this. I guess I never know what is enough. Will I be happy if I'm buff and have muscles and lean and model-like as well as a super genius scientist pop star actor writer singer political activist all around mary sue? I don't think so. I don't know.

I say I want to change but I secretly just want to be able to do all of it. How can what I feel be such a disorder? How can I call it that? If it's such a part of me how can I be striving to destroy it? It feels so right to let it take control, intoxicating really.

Sitting here the thoughts in my head are so strong. I think of myself as some kind of tragic figure that will be a cautionary tale of some sort but then I realize that I'm no one and no one will care if I completely lose it, then I think I should be trawling through the blogs that I have open in the tens of tabs I have open so that I can read every post and save every picture of hot men, watch every video, I think I should stop everything I'm doing so that I can work out to look like those men, then I think my room needs to be reorganized, then I think I should watch all of the episodes of mad men and six feet under, listen to music... all of it everything and organize it and categorize which is good and which is bad then I think that all these thoughts are completely crazy and that realization of that is some how shocking, it feels like I just pulled out the stopper and all these feelings of loss and sadness escape out of that sucking wound threatening to crumple my chest inward take over and it hurts, and that letting it be true means I'm just wasting my life and it's all I could do to avoid it , avoid knowing it, then I know for sure that 4 fucking years in university are gone and useless, I'm not even out of first year,
and then
those feelings get sucked back into the vacuum,
out of my head and face and I'm still,
waiting
for these unreasonable thoughts take over again.