We must all find ourselves lost and afraid at one point or another in our lives. The listlessness of life can be a real downer. Lately I’ve been harking myself back a decade or so in memory – listening to music I once loved, remembering how life used to be – free and easy, and so fun. Much of that has been lost from my life. The man sitting here typing away at a keyboard is very much unsure of himself and where his life is taking him.
Perhaps it is the tension of the world around me – like a string pulled taught waiting to break – that has caused such a rift in my psyche. Perhaps it is the staleness of my routine – sleep, work, work more, watch tv, eat, sleep. Such routine wasn’t meant for happiness, it was meant for monotony. I pretend I’m happy – so that at least in my delusion I can stay sane. But it’s a delusion. I am not happy. I am probably not sane.
I still feel like I am waiting for life to happen. I am so adrift in my own mind, half living in jealousy of those who have found fulfillment, half living in agony as fulfillment is so lost to me. I am not easily fulfilled. I do not enjoy life. I do not enjoy anything. I am an introverted, silent keeper of a deep sadness that haunts me – and I do not know why. Sometimes I want to cry, mostly I just walk around and sigh. This is my life. This is what I have created for myself. This is the day I have made. I will not rejoice, I will not be glad.