This existence feels like Hell. In a Myth of Sisyphus way. Repeating the same weeks, over and over, with the same habits, and same interactions, every. single. week.

I think back to that year, where all I wanted to do was have a child, and now children make me uncomfortable. I don’t like them, and thinking about having one makes me feel desolate. I think about my life now and what it would be like if I had someone I had to take care of attached to me 24/7 and it not only scares me, it makes me feel trapped, another circle of Hell.

I can’t imagine it would be good for me; the person I was last year who wanted one was someone else, and I’ll be gone in 10 years besides. Gareth said something like this to me when I brought up the idea, and I dismissed it. At the time, maybe he was wrong, my motivations, but in this instance I can’t help but shake my head in solemn agreement.

Parts of your chest ache when you come to the conclusion that you’re going to die alone, or that if you died right now no one would care, or that after you die everything that was once important to you – particularly and especially your thoughts – will cease.

There’s a hedonistic nihilism I carry with me, making life periodically difficult. I have a record in every direction, because maybe in some perverse justification I am trying to build a legacy, something that will exist beyond me, and I’m leaving a mark on every place I can.

Heartache isn’t as much heartache as it is chestache and it isn’t as much chestache as it is chest-emptying. Do you know of that sinking feeling? The one that has its own gravitational field, whose vectors point inward, and force you to introspect? It’s heavy. More so than the weight on your shoulders.

I’m only an addict because I chase euphoria, and nothing else. I chase the manic high I get when my depression rebounds, when I see life as intrinsically beautiful if not majestic. I’m having a hard time seeing that lately, and no substance is alleviating the fog.

I make it a point to say that I ultimately am not striving for happiness, as I will never achieve it, and it’s unstable. I only want to have the focus and discipline to be good at what I do, and to die doing it.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.