I’m starting to worry that it will never matter what I do, what I achieve, what I get. Never ever gonna matter. I’m cursed to want more than I have.
I’m not even sure if it’s that?
If it was that simple, I’d be able to just like, meditate it away or something. Have some chamomile, feel content after a bit of tea or something. This is not chamomile-able. It never has been.
I used to think, “I’ll feel better about everything when I’m older”. Well, now I’m older, and I’m just extremely hyperaware of fucking everything, and how much nothing matters. Literally nothing matters. I find meaning in loads of things, but it is always fleeting, temporary and inevitably cheap.
I don’t mind the things I don’t have so much, I have a lot that I am extremely grateful for. I count my blessings, and tell my partner I love her every single day. Anywhere from 50-500 times a day. I mean it every single time, can’t imagine that changing. It is the only constant I’ve ever known.
What I mind, is the ever-increasing, all-consuming awareness combined with overwhelming sense of futility and inadequacy. I guess this is depression? It is all I’ve known. It’s my other constant, I guess. Telling me what I feel is depression is like telling the ocean it’s wet. If you are water, and you are sad, does your brain still work?
I JUST WANT TO FIND PURPOSE, AND TO DO THAT
AS WELL AS I CAN
AND THEN DISAPPEAR INTO THE STARS
A CLOUD OF CONTENTEDNESS
a puff of hot air