I used to be indecisive, now I’m not sure.
That line could not be truer of me right now. I am lost readers, I really am.
I began this week so full of gusto and determination, a quarter of the year had managed to slip by me unnoticed and I wasn’t about to waste any more of it. Yet as I sit here now, all motivation, all feeling - has been exorcised from me, I am completely empty. What makes it worse is that I cannot point the finger of blame at any one person or event and shout heathen, be gone foul demon (and then chase them with a pitching fork), because I have no idea what has reduced me to this state.
In all likely hood it will have been a combination of things, the current unrest I am experiencing at work, the pressure my family is currently under with a death looming, attacks of Insomnia, and the recent bout of wanderlust has not helped; having only exasperated my sullen mood. As my longing for more exotic climates and adventure gave birth to a hatred for the monotonous, pointless existence I currently lead. Some of that anger is escaping in the direction of people close to me, which is causing me to withdraw in fear of snapping and damaging any relationship, (I guess that shows some part of me still cares enough not to completely self destruct). Whereas I am merely distancing myself from my friends, I am completely losing interest in those ‘acquaintances’ and general faces that mill about around the peripheries of my little world. Each day sees me withdraw deeper into my head and further away from reality, I know I should be fighting against it, but I just don’t care. All the joy has been ripped out of my life, and I am finding it really hard to recover it.
So far, so simple, but the fun doesn’t end there. Up to this point I have ignored the other effects of this most wondrous cacophony of gloom. I wake up tired, having apparently not slept properly, despite forcing myself into early nights, (finding the motivation to just get up is becoming somewhat burdensome). Most of the time I am walking around with so many thoughts screaming at me, that my head feels heavy; as though encased in ice. Coherent thought is becoming a luxury, gained only after multiple coffees and a fight to concentrate on any one thing for more than a few seconds. That has lead to my current flow of creativity stuttered abruptly.
The only time I seem to have a clear head right now is when I am running, and running so hard my heart is thrashing against my ribcage and my legs burn under the strain. Yet whilst all this is threatening to pull me into a pretty messed up place, I seem have become incredibly aware of myself and to seemingly random details of my surroundings. Colours will appear more vivid for no apparent reason, contrasts between textures, size and distance become more pronounced. I have become fascinated by the sky; I think I spend more time looking at it, than at where I am going. Especially when I am running (good combination, I’ve almost ran into three moving cars so far).
Yesterday evening I ran along the river under a full moon that sat proudly in an otherwise clear sky. The sun hadn’t long been down so the sky was that dark aquamarine colour, that tends to follow a warm day; and the buildings in the distance were just beginning to disappear into the expanse above. I slowed down to watch the reflection in the water, which was almost as still at the sky. The sight was so serene, and so inviting that for a moment I was able to forget everything.
I flicker of content in a sea of despair. That’s all I need to find a way through.
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