Thursday, May 31, 2012

The Great Depression

I am a slacker. The last of the species. Perhaps the only one so built, that he cares for nobody or nothing. It is pathetic, to think about it. But then, so is life. Why am i this way, you may ask. Maybe an early childhood filled with trauma... maybe being an ignored child in a family... Throw some Jung at me. Some Freudian hypotheses, and you would still be wrong. The point is, that I do not know the diagnosis of my own problem.

Yet, the fact remains that I find the world uninteresting. Its been like this for a couple of years now. I wake up every morning to go to work. I come home every night bored out of my brain. I laugh. I cry. But every moment I keep hoping that I would die. Someone must have switched on the auto mode in my brain. You ever get that feeling of an out of the body experience? When everything that is happening to you seems to be happening to a stranger? and you are an observer? Yeah. I feel that. Every. single. day.

So, what exactly is a slacker? Other than an asshole who pretty much keeps feeling sorry for himself? The creed of a slacker lies in the fact that he has no ambition. He has no dreams. No wants. Nothing. Absolute nothing. You might have heard of hippies, travelling across the world with nothing, but a backpack. Well, this is kinda like that. Except, I don't travel nowhere. I go on with my miserable life till it ends. Or I decide to end it.

Don't worry. I no gonna kill myself. I am too much of a scaredy cat to do that. It's not like I have not tried to figure this problem out. I have tried losing myself in work. Not really a great idea to get rid of stupid thoughts. I tried running in the morning. But you really can't run away from your problems. Seriously, I tried. Plus, you only get sweaty and tired. I tried drinking to death. Shot my liver a couple times and ended up on meds. Plus, they kicked the junk food out of my system. That sucked royally.

So what do you do? How do you get your life back on track? I dunno. Still trying to figure that one out. Till then. I wake up every morning. Go to work. Come back home. Smile. Laugh. Cry. Pretend that everything is fine. Till it actually becomes fine. Maybe it will.

Jeez. That was a weird write up. I think I might be losing it. But, then there is no pain I am receiving. A distant shipsmoke on the horizon. I am already coming through in waves. My lips move but I can't hear what I am saying. When I was a child, I had a fleeting glimpse. Out of the corner of my eyes. As I turned to look, the view is gone. I cannot put my finger on. The child is grown. The dream is gone. And I have become Comfortably Numb.

Just a song. Life is just a song. 

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