Tuesday, December 9, 2003

I'm Flailing

These past few days have been busy. Extremely busy. But not in the fulfilling, productive way. Rather, I feel as if I just went through a whole day just flailing my arms about. I have the semblance of looking really occupied, but in the end, I have accomplished nothing.

Sleep late. Wake up early. Clean. Then pay my daily visits to the internet. Then read. And return to the cycle, not smarter, not happier, unchanged but worn down.

Last month I was utterly inactive and unoccupied, this month I am pursuing just the opposite, yet both are resulting in the same consequence. How do I quench this pain of utter and absolute disappointment. Or of leashing it on others, rather.

It wasn't that long ago that I had the hope of finding something in someone. Now that notion is out. The phone call friendship has dissipated. I have little to sustain myself with. Never before have thoughts of suicide plagued me so often. While thinking of drawing up a bath this morning, I stared up at the high tile walls above the bathtub and thought of how nice it would be to have my life-force draining from the wrists, until I feel nothing but the simple warmth of the water, and eventually, nothing.

Life is so hard. If it is not utterly comatising in its mundaneity, it continuously deceives you with roaring highs, only to rape you with abysmal lows. Either way, it is utterly devastating in its greyness and ambiguity. Perhaps I am just too idealistic. And maybe just a little insane. I should just accept that I'm never to find a definitive answer to why these things happen. Maybe I should just take the tedious monotony for what it is, and live as if I were an ant.

But to certain friends, don't worry about me, I would never commit suicide. I have too much of a curious and masochistic nature. And I would never devastate the people I love like that.

I guess life is like that. You eventually end up living for others that are living for you. We just define ourselves through others, which have no intrinsic value of their own neither. Just a series of empty shells placing their faith in other empty shells.

All right, enough torture for one day.