Tuesday, 27 August 2013

The Cooncash Delusion

This summer has been a lot of fun at times. Most of it has been drunken fun, however, and that means I've completely failed at the one thing I set out to do. Nothing new there. I'm not quitting drinking, that was a lie. I miss my little friday morning therapy sessions. Talking about myself for an hour was great. I miss having that balance of pressure and support. I have to help myself but it helps to have someone remind you to go in the right direction. I could be about to fall again.

I'm feeling sick and empty and hungover and restless and weak. Thoughts are gushing around inside my mind so fast I don't have time to catch hold of even one. I am starting to hope this life is a practice round for the real thing because I've got nothing right so far.

Whatever the front I show to the outside world is, it is not really me. Not what i should be or what I could have been. An interactive relationship between potential and depression feeds the depression more than it nurtures the potential. My whole persona is an act I'm not even in control of. And it's a different one for just about every person I'm in contact with. It's a strange feeling knowing you are acting a different person in each scenario you are in but not being able to change.

The person sat hear writing this doesn't want to be the person everyone seems to think he is. I wish I could take little bits of other people's personalities and make them my own. I can't. I am this. I have some sense of the man I want everyone to perceive in me but I do not have the balls to do it. I should be a superstar. Should be capable of having everything I want. Could have been remembered. Now I will probably be forgotten.

Or do I mean to say that I'm simply too lazy or disaffected to change? I'm listening to The Pixies song 'where is my mind?' and I have absolutely no fucking idea. I can't hold on to a thought long enough to follow through on anything. All day I consider everything I'm going to do and see. How cool I am. Then I don't care if I'm a dork. I'll have aggression coursing through my veins before purest apathy sets in and I've no feelings at all. Do I play the guitar or smash it against the wall like Pete Townsend on coke? Exhausted doing nothing. Sleeping when I'm not tired and tired of sleeping all the time. I can fall in love with somebody new every week just because I feel a bit lonely and then find myself not even hating them, but having no interest at all.

Pretending to be doing things is all well and good until the moment you realise it is all nothing. When you see all the day to day shit you are doing is worthless then your life is worthless, pointless, boring.

But I am just one of many people feeling this way. I received some reminders of that this week from friends who never complain or cry about the shit in their lives. They have worse problems than me but handle it all better. They aren't sitting around feeling sorry for themselves or sinking into bed loving depression. If I am helping them in some tiny way then at least that is something worthwhile. I don't have the fight in me for myself right now.

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