Better Off This Way

The days are bright, and the sun should be a source of joy. Why then is it pain I feel each morning as it pierces my eyelids? I can admit it: I'm burnt out, discharged, exhausted, and above all, bored. The brief bursts of enthusiasm and energy from this past year seem unreal now, as I sit in wait for the year to come to an all too welcome close. Some part of me still needs fixing, if things are to have turned out this way at the end of another year that began with promise and hope. It's not exactly with despair that I sit now, but just disinterest. People around me are making plans of places to go, sights to see, and perhaps most importantly, things to do. Me, all I want to do is find someplace to level out, and wait for the future to come to me on my own terms. Trouble is, I have a pretty good idea of what that future would look like, and it's not particularly appealing either.

What I'd Say

Blame it on a lack of experience. There I was, with the opportunity I'd apparently wanted for a few months now -- initial bridges crossed, shared jokes exchanged, and an evening spread out farther than I could see. But it's only the morning after that I'm able to think up the things I should have said, and shake my head at what actually went down. I have a familiar sense of regret, but while usually it's a dull background to my mind's inconsequential chatter, now I feel throbbing and pressing up against my skin. Mistakes, I think, are not something I can afford any longer.

Blame it also on my endless search for the mysteries of the self. Not only has it turned up nothing of value some ten years on, it also seems to left a lingering sense of delusion that all of my internal minutiae has even a passing interest to anyone else. So it goes that when a drop of this is drawn out, perhaps out of curiosity or kindness, what follows is a drowning that would be terrifying where it not so unimaginably boring. Only when laid bare in the most inappropriate of circumstances does it become plain to me: there's really nothing here, deep inside me, that anyone needs to be aware of. (If I could also be ignorant of it, that would be a plus, but I don't hold my breath.)

What I should have done seems deceptively obvious in hindsight. For a start, have every sentence feature the word "you". (This self is a stranded vessel trying to find its way to a harbour; each wave it makes, every strip of land in sight finds a way to bury itself in the water.) More specifically, I should have sought some detail, if they were willing to give it, on a few off-hand remarks scattered over the last months, hinting as they did on a private world as complex as my own. (Let me try to solve my problems by overpowering them with someone else's.)

As things stand, while proceedings concluded cordially enough, I know that the sight of what dwells within must have been disturbing. Left to rue over another day's worth of poor choices, I wonder when this journey of self-actualisation will complete, if ever. Dissecting events to learn lessons is valuable, but how can it be that I still need to be taught the most basic rules of conduct? Anyway, for what it's worth, here's today's lesson: it's a sad reality that to let anyone want to get closer, I first have to completely suppress myself.

More optimistically, put another way, I have to suppress the negative part of myself. Because I do believe there is a positive part, and that it's one that can have a greater say in how I operate. It's probably the part that kicks in when I do anything that involves me not be the focal point. Lending a helping hand, say; why don't I do that more, again? The negative self chirps in with a mountain of reasons, but I'm not in the mood to pay it any mind. I'd much rather revisit a line that held some sway when I first read it: become the person you want to be. Figuring out who that is in entirety, that's perhaps one goal of my muddled musings. Figuring out one or two things that person would do, that's easy. Ring up and say sorry, for a start. And then work to earn a place back at the table.

One more bit

You'll remember my advice from a while ago: never write anything the days immediately before or after an age increment. This has been a simple yet effective guard against the most obvious, and unrewarding, strains of self-reflection and flagellation. Well, we're past that point enough now for me to try to bring some sobriety to the scene, but wouldn't you know it, I reach into my mind for a thought and my hand gets eaten up by the dark.

I've told myself this so many times it likely doesn't bear repeating, but I have nothing else to say anyway, so here goes: the meta-flaw I seem unable to conquer is obsessing over my myriad minor flaws. Without my quite realising it, it appears that every quiet moment when my consciousness isn't looking, part of me tallies up the mistakes I've made and keeps a fresh list at the ready for a moment of weakness. That's the only way I can explain what I did yesterday: a sad, and ultimately selfish release of my insecurities to a party unable to do anything with them except make note to never bring up anything of the sort with me again.

It's all the more surprising given that I thought I had...well, if not conquered these demons, then at least tamed them somewhat. You remember the separation of concerns, and all that. I'm not sure then what yesterday implies, other than that I seem to have been living in a form of blissful ignorance I didn't know I was capable of. And frankly, I'm largely ok with that -- some truths just aren't worth confronting or owning up to, provided they are never given the air to actualise. The latter, I think, is the key: how to stop these episodes of emotionally deluging some unsuspecting other?

I know it's a long way still for the next bit to drop, but last night and this morning, I couldn't quite see a future where that actually happened. How am I supposed to keep this up, day after day, night after night? Loneliness has never been a particularly good friend, but it seems the only one I have right now. And, wouldn't you know, it really hates new company.