Apparently my mood has been erratic. I say this like I’m not aware but really I’m only a half step behind how it really is so realizations are not immediate, but not very far delayed.
As it stands, my life is in shambles. An exaggeration sure but it feels like that to me and thus it is so. I said “thus” and feel way too pompous now. That may just be how I am, still changing.
I don’t want to be a person who has “thus” in their everyday vocabulary. Overall, sure, but shouting “Thus” every day is not right for me.
Back to where I am though. My life isn’t on a good course, at least, one that’s set for a concrete destination. Or even a direction. I’m starting to come to terms with that though and this is where it really starts to fuck with me. Will I be the person that sees their life burn to the ground someday and just stand idly by, smiling but not happy, just content in knowing this is where it was heading? That scares me.
I don’t think I want to write about my depression or whatever I have, but talking about it is important, so expect more about that as time passes. My past is well, not well, and that’s a burden I carry with me despite my objections. I tried explaining it and used some decent comparison I saw before: you must be at least a level 10 friend to unlock my backstory.
There are shortcuts. They are most definitely not worth it.
I don’t see that as why we are here though. Why I am here, adrift in my life.
I’m not somebody important. That hit me a while ago. Years? Or only weeks? Sure, I may eventually be in some opportunity important to someone more than many others, but overall to many others I am among the masses and that is what I am getting at. I didn’t see myself there before. It was a fear. Now it’s more of a fact.
Passion? Desire? Purpose? I’ve had experiences of them before. At times probably more than fleeting instances, ingrained in my life. Drive. No more now.
I learned how to push start a car on a clutch. I hated it. The idea, the overall sequence, and probably the view from an onlooker’s perspective I didn’t hate. But being there, at that moment. More moments did I prefer not to be. The good memories, those I hold close, that change my biochemistry as I relive them for a small moment, describing what was, is an action I enjoy. I almost typed “thing” and did. One lesson from writing I really do keep with me. There’s a better word than “thing” to use.
The relived history is one part. It is a pale shadow the history itself, to being in that moment. So I ask:
How do I get there again?
Find a purpose again. Push myself. Try old things that worked and new things on top of that.
I have a role, and it’s a minor one. Now I just have to mold myself so that I can actually work in it.
I have changed a few times in my life and will change more throughout it. It’s not a switch for me, nor do I expect for most too, but a gradual progression. And in that, I stay the same. Ideas of things I wanted to be with no task or job sticking long. That holds true now.
This is what I hope will be another change, another road traveled although not to completion, but hopefully I do find a good exit. A detour if I’m lucky.
-Me
Bamboo Shots of the Mind 