Reflection

It's been 9 years,3 months and 163 posts. Of those 9 years, I was inactive for 2 years. After the last post I decided to revisit all my posts. This is a bad thing, because I only blog when I'm extremely bored and/or depressed. And currently, I'm both.

Bored because I've currently been without work for the past 9 months though this situation will, hopefully, be remedied in short order following my interview on this coming Thursday with the same company I left 9 months ago. For a lower position and a lower pay. But lower pay is better than no pay. And it will at least allow me to focus on something other than all the negative shit that's been happening lately.

Which brings me to the depression. I've been hiding it for a good while now. Numbing myself in other stimuli like books, movies and games. Anything to distract me from the dreadful knowledge that I lived a life of no purpose, alone. I thought I kept the charade up pretty well. But then the shit went down last week and I guess the facade crumbled away.

It's been 4 days of living in a haze of melancholy. I don't really feel like eating (which has the great short term effect of helping to lose more weight; though in the long run, not really great) and sleep is akin to that of a cheap prostitute you paid for an overnight special but then bails after the 2nd hour. Exercising would have been great, what with all the release of endorphin, but the new tattoo of my dead dog's paw is still healing (and itchy like a crack whore).

Instead I'm spending most of my time awake either being a house steward or, especially in the night, on YouTube, listening to Ghost and other assorted metal bands. That's another sign by the way, of my descent into melancholy; incessant listening to metal (my emo rantings aside, you should listen to Ghost.Great band). 

I suppose I should be grateful that that's the extent of it. Upon reflection of my previous posts through the years, it was quite a more destructive path of copious amounts of booze and cigarettes and the occasional self scarring. I think I've graduated from messed up kid to messed up man-child. 

I've semi-stopped drinking (only on holidays) and I don't self scar unless it's done professionally and with ink. I still smoke like a motherfucker though. More now in fact since I have income. I find I'm not polemically angry (i.e. fuck the world) anymore but more melancholic (i.e. why are things fucked up and why can't I supposedly do anything about it?). Its like anger's lazier, more chilled out, stoner cousin. 

Yeah, I get sad, but I don't feel like slitting my wrists anymore. Work and income and the material things I can buy from said income have helped tremendously in that sense. That's why I didn't blog for over two years. I was working. Living. Semi happy or somewhat content with my lot in life. And now that I no longer have that, I look back at everything and have arrived back at the exact spot which I started. Alone, jobless, purposeless.

Maybe it's all temporary. Melancholy, happiness. One can't live without being defined by the other. Well, it's melancholy's reign now. After a long time it feels like an old, spiteful friend. Familiar but detested. And, to put it simply, it sucks balls. 

When I first started writing this post I went thorough the other post and I was thinking, fucking hell, nothing about me has changed one bit. Just older. But in the course of writing it, around maybe the 6th paragraph, I realized that it's not all that bad. I will get better eventually. Especially with that job lined up around the corner. I will eventually forget about the casus melancholia, namely the two Ms, and things will get better again. They have to. Otherwise, what the point of it all?

I find that it's becoming like a litany nowadays. I always have to keep telling myself that things will get better. It's becoming annoying. 

In conclusion, listen to Ghost!  And no, I'm not shamelessly plugging for them because I work for them. They've been the soundtrack to my melancholy. And its a damn good soundtrack.