I’m in the middle of a long four-day period with nothing to do at all, and while the whole time has been filled with pleasant, enjoyable experiences, I can’t help but feel like a complete and utter piece of shit. Certainly the fact that this is the fourth day in a row of completely overcast skies doesn’t help at all, but I think this has to do with more than just the weather. I’m also beginning to feel genuinely lonely for the first time in awhile, although the last thing I feel like doing is hanging out with people. On Saturday I asked Amanda to take me to the liquor store so I could return my case of beer from my birthday party and pick up another one for gradual consumption over the next couple weeks, and we also went to the supermarket afterwards, but that’s the extent of all the social interaction I’ve had over the last two and half days, and that’s if you count English class as social interaction.
Of course I’m currently operating under the belief that we choose our own emotions and that if I wanted I could look at this completely differently. I could be happy that I have such a long period of time with nothing to do but what I feel like doing. I could be glad that I’ve managed to go jogging every day for the last three days as well as working on my philosophy journal. I could appreciate the entire afternoons and evenings of simply having fun and enjoying myself. Instead I just feel low and miserable, constantly considering just how much happier I’d be if I had a terminal illness and I knew I only had a few more weeks or months ahead of me. Staring down the road at the years or the decades ahead is just too depressing to contemplate. My quarter-century of life feels like a millennium. The idea that I might not even be half-way to the end is almost too much to bear…
I just feel like I’m not going anywhere, in spite of the fact that I know I’m not supposed to be going anywhere. I’m doing exactly what I wanted to be doing with my life, only at this point I’m not exploring as much or experiencing as much as I thought I’d be. Probably because I’m not making as much money as I thought I’d be. I suppose I could be looking for another job or a cheaper apartment right now, but I have no motivation to do either of those things. I don’t want to leave this apartment and I don’t want to go through the bullshit of getting another job especially when I’ve already got an interview coming up next week. Perhaps the extra 400 euros a month I might be getting from the International School will be enough.
In any case, I know that I’ll probably be out of here by the end of the year and off to Japan. That seems to be the way I’ve chosen to deal with my life since graduating college. Not going anywhere? No forward progress being made in life? Still haven’t found that special someone? The solution—move somewhere else. End your old life and build a new one. That’s a high that literally lasts for months. But then the seasons change and eventually you find yourself in another stasis that doesn’t look all that much more extraordinary than every other stasis you’ve found yourself in. Then your thoughts shift to moving again and going somewhere else. Giving yourself the illusion that you’re going somewhere, that you’re making some sort of “progress”, or even that this time you might find that special someone.
Really it’s all just killing time. I have no reason to live and never really have. The simple pleasures that I fill my days with are nice and all, but they’re not worth living for. Only one thing in life is worth living for, and that’s love. And I haven’t been truly in love for years, the emotion that once went with it now twisted and warped into something unfortunate and disturbing. I’m not doing any good for anybody in the world. My friends certainly don’t need me. I haven’t talked to Corey in weeks and Krissi is…well, she is who she is. She appreciates me but she has never needed me.
The fact is I’m not doing anybody any good by being alive. I have no wife or children to take care of, nor do I have any talent that I could use to make the world a better place. I’m just breathing everybody else’s air, drinking their water, eating their food, and contributing in all my little ways to the suffering of the unfortunate people and animals who are victims of civilisation. I suppose I could choose not to look at it this way, but it just feels appropriate to do so. I would rather not be alive. Looking at my life objectively, as if I were some outside spectator who had to decide which lives were worth preserving and which could be discarded without much loss to the world, I’d place myself in the latter category. Not that I’d be the only one, but I really feel like my life is worthless to everyone but me. Sure, I’ve had many experiences worth having, but what have I done to deserve them?
The only good reason I have not to kill myself and remove the burden on the rest of the world of my presence here is that any suffering I mitigate by taking myself out of the equation will be offset by the suffering I cause to my parents and the other people who care about me—which they only do because it’s natural, not because I merit it.
I suppose it’s useless to fight this mood right now. I think I just have to let it be, like an illness that can only be cured by waiting it out. I know I’ve got to feel this way sometimes. Choosing not to and really fighting it would take too much effort. Besides, I’ve always been inclined to indulge my misery when true misery comes about. It’s important to allow myself to be reminded from time to time that I’m just a miserable, worthless sack of shit after all. But this mood will pass eventually, as will my life. I’ll just keep killing time until it does.