Sleep’s kicking my ass again today.
Feels like I am fighting the pull of a massive black hole just to stay away. I have the usual feeling of having recently been compressed. It’s very hard to focus.
And so forth and so on.
And maybe that’s part of why I am in such a crappy mood. The effort involved in forcing myself to stay awake and focus on the screen when all I really want is to go back to sleep already is making me cranky and irritable.
So what the hell, might as well tap this mood and bitch about my stupid life.
If you can call playing video games all day a life. I mean, technically, I’m alive and aware and participating in the time/space continuum so I guess whatever this tragic existence of mine is called, it qualifies as a life.
Just a really stupid and futile one.
I am so tired of just making it through the day, even though that’s all I seem to be able to do. I want so much more out of my time on Earth. I have so much that I want to give to the world. So much I need to prove.
So much magic I need to share.
And the fact that it is all locked behind iron doors of mental illness drives me crazy (!).
I mean, I do my best not to think about it. I try to be accepting of my tragic circumstances. I tell myself that all life requires of a sick person like me is that I do what I can to get better.
But there’s always so much more I “could” be doing on that front too. All kinds of happy shiny positive things I “could” be doing to improve my health, like exercising. making myself go outside, looking to expand my social group so I can get some exposure to novel social situations, looking into going back to school, and so on.
I “could”. Except that I can’t. Or can I?
Maybe I totally COULD be doing these things if I wasn’t such a pussy and manned uo and faced my problems like a grownup.
Instead, I life my so called life with my back turned to reality, huddling within myself, nursing a deep and desperate sadness that makes doing more than eking out this meagre subsistence damn near impossible.
And I get so damned frustrated. I want so badly to break out of this rut and actually get on with living but I don’t feel like I have the power to do so within me. My soul cries out for action and connection and liberation but all I can do is shake my tiny fists at an uncaring sky and curse the injustice of it all.
I deserve so much better than this sad and sorry life of mine. Not that it matters. It’s not like the karma police are going to show up, declare me to have suffered enough, and lead me to my dream life of being a media mogul. Or famous novelist. Or Jim Henson like creative leader.
Or something like that, anyhow.
I want so badly to follow my own light out of this dark cave of mine and into the soft sunlight of a far greater reality.
But all I can do is remain rootbound underground and do my best to grow in the direction of the light.
And I am so fucking sick of that.
More after the break.
Fuck this shit!
That would look good on a T-shirt. Might be a big seller too. Lots of angry young people hitting their nihilistic phase in the world.
Could even do it in emojis.
Anyhow, spoiler alert, still feeling somewhat frustrated with life. But also bored with my own frustrated and anger. And a little contemptuous of said boredom.
This level of irony should not be attempted by anyone not of Generation X without the assistance of a member of said generation.
We do shit like this all the time, but be warned : we only make it LOOK easy.
Ordered some vittles from 7-11. Three chicken strips, three potato wedges, and a corn dog. Oh, plus a Double Gulp of Diet Pepsi ’cause I need a new drinking glass.
I’m classy like that.
Last time I got chicken strips, instead of my single container of my beloved garlic aoli dip, I got one of BBQ (ick) and one of the unholy crime against decency that is Buttermilk Ranch Dip.
Who the hell decided that what the already sour cream based loveliness of Ranch dressing really needed was butter?
Like, does cholesterol have its own lobby now, or something?
I tried that stuff once before under similar circumstances. It was not as bad as I thought but I felt really terrible about myself afterward, so never again.
I had a similar experience with pork rinds. I shudder at the memory.
Rewinding a fair bit, I suppose my frustration with my situation in life is ultimately a good thing because it is via intense aggravation that I change.
My default mode is stasis and the status quo. Inertia. Stability. Predictability.
In other words, death. Death in slow motion, but death nevertheless. Nothing which lives can remain the same. Even the apparently stability of biological homeostasis requires our bodies to make constant adjustments in order to maintain the same body temp, respiration rate, heartbeat, and so on.
Besides, biological imperatives aside, the only real argument for keeping everything the same is that you are perfectly happy where you are and wouldn’t change a thing.
And I ain’t. I’m an unhappy, frustrated, depressed, angry, stifled, powerless, rage filled desperate loser so far out on the fringes of society that that only way I could have less impact on society would be to become Amish, and that’s not a happy state to be in.
So clearly change is the answer, and that means growing as a person, and that’s scary.
Especially because it means I have to stop clinging to the side of this cliff and start actually climbing down from here.
And maybe I will fall.
And lose it all.
But I am finally sick enough of being here to risk it.
Fuck it. Maybe I’ll get bored enough to jump.
Either way, it will finally be over.
Take that, world!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
P.S. : Food arrived, still no garlic aioli. Grr.