wolf wolf

I don't need or want to continue to write in this blog any longer, so I'm going to stop writing in this blog. This will be my last post.

I'm back in that place again. Like I'm wading through a blue haze, with some sort of sinking presence in my abdomen. A slow drifting aura of hopelessness pervades my thinking, so I distract myself with things in front of me: things to do today, tomorrow, or even for the next month. How long I should boil my tea and how much cold water to put into it after it starts boiling, so that it would be a decent 90 degrees when I put my tea bag in. But I know it doesn't matter. In fact, desperation speaks in whispers, telling me that how loudly I shout and tell people that I matter, it's polluting hush decimates all my voice, breaking me down speechless. I haven't been here in a while, not like this at least. It was always slightly more delusional and misty –– this is real.

All I see or feel is a steady blue haze. It keeps me moving, because that's what I need to do, but it takes away all my joy. It gives me ambition and freedom from other people, but it also does well of stripping my being of any warm sentiments –– that sort of soft nostalgic jello of times once good slurped up by the cold concrete reality of things that won't be.

No, this is not loneliness. Neither is it a desire to not be alone. It is a recognition of my own shittiness of a person and how this sort of self loathing swamps me, turning my bravery and trueness into apathy. No, actually, that's not entirely true. This is seeing myself as I am: a normal person. Not so charismatic or amazing, or positive or happy. Just normal, semi interesting but not so much. Decent. Fair to modest. This is a strange sort of humility I feel.

I am an optimistic person. But not today, because I don't want to be optimistic today. Being optimistic also introduces a sadist sentiment of welcoming an inevitable failure. I feel my emotions because I have no choice. I can subdue those sort of emotions into bitterness and angst, but instead I chose the more mellow wild and uncaring melancholy. I want to be a better person. Loving caring selfless. but today I am not. We all go searching for resolution in a world where somethings will never resolve into a solid form. Just memories and dreams and the ghosts of our past that dwell in those spaces. These kind of emotions don't fade through time, I know this from past experience. They just mellow out but they stay under the surface to one day be beckoned and hound up from their depths.

I don't want to disappear anymore. In fact I want to live and go through life. The motions are okay. I won't bet against it, but my feelings right now tell me that I won't find any lasting happiness. Where do I go from here? I was always searching for resolution, but I accepted the idea that maybe resolution wasn't meant for me. I'm always trying to go somewhere, but I don't know if I can ever get there. Sometimes I even know where I want to be, but when I get there, it's going to be not as great as I thought before. Something like leaves, drifting always. Leaves don't have anywhere to go. They just.. go.

I don't care if anyone know about my life or not. In fact, I never write about my life. I just write about feelings. But it's embarrassing, because this sort of writing connotes some type of hubris that other people would care to read it. I am a personal person, and I think I will keep it like that. I realize that I have so much more to say specifically but it's too embarrassing. So much of my posts are half assed self conscious pieces, which are not true. I will write in my journal because I don't think that the blog medium is conducive to helping me sort out my blue. I would talk about my stance on love and relationships, happiness and the like, but I don't want to. I would rather keep it to myself. I want people to understand how I feel, sure, but it's not a very true thing.

I clearly don't have that much emotional control. The first step to have some emotional control would be to be honest with myself. This blog doesn't help in that endeavor. I only tell half truths on here without any context, and by doing so, it only semi-clarifies my perspective.

I love my friends and family. What would I be without them? But in the core of my being, I am alone. I hope I will not be, but today and likely tomorrow I will be alone. Not because there are not great people around me, but because that's actually just the state of my being. Separate but functional. blue but okay. the mood changes, the people around me change, what i do might change, but the color is always the same. BLUE

Finishing this blog will also conclude these drama queen melancholy thoughts, because writing in this blog only pervades that sentiment deeper into my mind, allowing me to indulge and swamp myself with those feelings without actually resolving them in a positive light.

I can't promise that I will become a happier person, but I know I will become a better, stronger person with more emotional control, discipline and weight. All those things I wrote above will no longer define me as a person as I step away from this. Parting with this blog is kind of like parting with that icky side of me. By the time anyone is reading this, they will be reading words from a ghost, a visage that only exists is glimpse of myself, not entirely real; more like a silent snapshot of a person that was too hard on himself and gave himself too little credit.