I hate how sentimental I am. It’s disgusting sometimes. While the rest of time and space goes on with happiness, sadness, joy, sorrow, praise or pity, here I am stuck with thoughts of what once was and what could have been. I don’t know how long I’ve had this habit, but much like everything else in my life, I cannot control it.
A song comes on. Memories. An episode of a TV show plays. Memories. A tire goes flat and I’m stranded. Memories. Everything in my life goes around like a spinning record, recently at least. Things may be good for now, or for one period in time, but eventually it comes to an end and I get to start all over. The problem lies with the fact you’re supposed to enjoy spinning records.
There is no joy in spinning my own.
I’ve had dark parts of my life I don’t care to relive. I’ve had moments where the rest of the world can crash in on itself and I would have no worries whatsoever. I’ve also had times like now where I would rather take a nice amount of sleeping pills and live in all I care about — my memories. Even it were just for one day, that would give me happiness. Temporary happiness.
I have a few friends here, I have a job that may be good experience, but treats me about as fair a bus boy in a five-star restaurant in downtown Chicago, and I have an absolutely absurd amount of self-pity, self-hatred and complete somberness spinning every second of the day in my head.
Like I said, I’ve hard dark parts of my life I do not care to relive whatsoever. But with those at least, I didn’t have this overwhelming sense of gloom. I am not lying to you when I say I cannot shake this shit feeling. It’s been at least a solid week now where the bits of happiness and positivity I have is very much outweighed and nearly out-ruled by literally everything else. It’s like a punch to the gut at this point. A daily, unconditional punch to the gut.
Adding insult to injury is one thing, but this? I don’t even begin to understand it, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that you’re having to read a grown-ass adult sob to the internet. That’s never who I want to be, but if I had another alternative at the moment, I would vent there.
But I don’t.
All the venting I’ve done is good for the day, but something else the following day just decides to storm in happily gives me the finger. This is no one person’s fault except my own. Hindsight is 20/20, they say, but foresight must be 20/60. Fogged up are my glasses, my retina and my pupils. Much like Velma from Scooby-Doo, each day seems to be a journey of crawling around the floor searching for my only companion to see straight again. The floor is dirty, the floor is vacant and the floor is mocking me.
Coldplay’s “For You” opens with a simple line:
If you’re lost and feel alone, circumnavigate the globe.
Generally, that’s my method of cleansing this feeling of loneliness. The city is big and wide with plenty to discover. I try my best to drive around unfamiliar areas the best I can, but sometimes, you hit the limit of new. At least, ‘new’ in the moment. I did that tonight, driving around, and each mile just became more depressing. Building A had memories, Building B had memories, Building C had memories, Highway D had memories and Sidestreet E even had memories. My car had seen happier days along with myself, and the ghosts of what was plagued my tunnel vision. What point is there to drive by familiar, old spots with the only intention of trying to see where you were months prior, but happy?
Because for those few seconds, I remember a life that gave my happiness on many fronts, and a life that was in my favor for once. Knowing I cannot and do not have that in present time is slowly eating me away, and I’m left asking one question to myself I know I’ll never be able to answer anytime soon.
“What do I do?”