I thought about calling this blog the Daily Download at one point. But now I dunno. People might think it has something to do with actual downloads.  Like every day I am going to recommend a cool game or app for people to try.

I also considered calling it the Daily Dump, but there are so many things wrong with that idea that its wrongness could not be graphed in Euclidean space.

I could call it The Release Valve, I suppose, but that would make it sound like it’s where I vent my spleen. And that’s not what this blog is about.

Most of the time, anyhow.

And I would hate to get pigeonholed as a pigeon as a “ranter”. This blog is for whatever I feel like expressing that day. And I mighty not feel ranty at all.

I’m a complicated man. And no one understands me. Period.

I have also considered various names involving the word “dreaming”. Long Night’s Dreaming, Daily Dreaming, 1000 Dreams, and so on.

For someone like me, who is in and out of bed all day and for whom bed is never more than a foot away, the line between reality and dreams can get mighty fine. Not to the point where I can’t tell the difference – mostly – but definitely to the point where even when I am here typing away to you nice people, I feel like I am partially asleep.

And the dream world feels like it’s half a blink away.

It’s been particularly bed lately, and that’s all my fault, because I have fallen back into the habit of not bothering to get dressed if I am not going out.

My feeble excuse is the heat. But that is nowhere near enough to justify doing something I know is bad for me – spending all day naked – just because it’s easier.

It’s that fucking path of least resistance again. It’s so tempting for a formless water person like myself. It’s holding onto my form and steering my own destiny and especially driving towards a goal even when the initial impulse is gone that is hard.

Then again, I did write a million words in eleven months once. That involved sticking to a goal. In that case, the sheer audacity of the goal motivated me.

It was a lunatic thing to do and I loved that.

But my depression can’t be fooled like that again. I have tried to come up with another crazy ass goal to motivate myself again, but the forces of destruction and dissolution within me that attack and destroy any source of motivation or really any structure within myself at all quickly tear it apart into its constituent elementary particles.

These forces are very powerful and are one of the prime reasons I can’t get anywhere in life. They destroy my motivation and make it pointless to truly plan things because those plans won’t last five minutes in the pirahna pit of my mind.

So all I can do is think about stuff that might work if I could actually do it and pretend I am totally going to do these things any day now and try to survive.

But it’s all lies. I’m not going anywhere. I am going to die young without having spent one heartbeat as an actual adult.

Hell, without even making it to my teen years, emotionally speaking.

And all because of the predators within.

What is the deal with them, anyway? Why is my inner environment like the surface of Venus – far too much heat, acidity, and pressure for anything to remain alive for more than a few incredibly painful moments? What is ripping everything apart?

A bunch of things, I think.

1. Maintaining the status quo. There’s the part of the mind that resists change in order to maintain mental stability. But that’s mot enough on its own. That’s clearly been hijacked by my mental illness, like a virus invading a healthy cell and getting it to produce more of the virus.
2. There is also all that anger.  I think these attacks on myself are a way to vent anger on myself as well. I have so much rage in me and vastly insufficient means of expressing it, so my mind seizes on anything “foreign” and rips it apart like a pack of wild dogs. Hungry ones.
3. The need to remain liquid.  There’s also that thing about not wanted to be caught in the wrong shape that I have talked about before. It’s an obsession that equates adaptability with safety. Ergo, anything which restricts the kinds of forms I can take at any moment has to go. That makes permanent structure impossible.
4. Hiding deep dark truths.  Because of my reflective and analytical nature and my sky high IQ, my subconscious mind has to work very hard to keep things hidden from me. I feel like this involves a very complex shell game being played in the deep layers of my mind. One that, like a magic trick, relies on distraction and motion to keep me from knowing where the badness is hidden, or even that there is anything hidden at all.
5. Feeding the beast.  The beast, in this case, being my creative process. On a fundamental level, way down deep, my creativity involves dissolving things into their constituent elements and then using those elements to make new things. Kind of like a Star Trek replicator. In my case, though, the new things also get dissolved and few thigns actually make it through that process.
6. Maximizing free space for the contemplation of big ideas.  And the big picture. And so forth.

And no doubt countless other factors as well.

It’s hard for me to imagine life without this internal predation. The very idea of being able to build something in my mind and have it just… stay there fills me with a sweaty kind of panic.

But there has to be a way to make my internal ecosystem less toxic.

Guess it’s time to drain the swamp.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.