(no subject)
I've disallowed comments to my journal. I realized that I stopped writing in here for two reasons.
1- I hate moping, and that's all I've been doing. Why would I want to keep a record of it?
2- When one mopes, there are two ways people respond to it: a) they wish you well, and tell you everything will be alright, & b) they tell you to stop bitching and get over it.
Both of these options infuriate me. So mostly, I've been trying to stay positive, but it hasn't been working. And maybe it's time to type some of this shit out. But in order to do that, I needed to be sure I wouldn't get the requisite "hey, it's ok" or "you're a whiny git" responses. Hence the no comments thing. If you really want to comment on anything I write, most of you know my address. And if you don't know it, well, no offence, but I'm up to my neck in differing opinions, and I didn't need one more anyways.
I think my mood lately is less a matter of not being ABLE to be happy as much as it is a matter of not WANTING to be happy. I know I’m capable of telling jokes and laughing and all that. I just don’t feel right lately with being happy. Like I should mourn for longer. And not just mourn for Baba either. But mourning for wasted opportunities, bad decisions, and another year gone with very little to show for it. Lately I feel like every time I’m about to be happy, a dark mood comes over me, and won’t allow me to enjoy anything. Like I’m subconsciously sabotaging my healing period, almost willing it into some indefinite melancholy. I don’t WANT to be Billy Corgan. One’s enough, thank you.
I’m not really planning to go out for New Year’s. I actually think I’d make a pretty lousy date. I won’t dance in the mood I’m in, and if I get drunk, I’ll probably just get insular and sad. Whoo, what fun! Ladies, come and get it!
I think I’ll be taking advantage of this here thingy more. It feels good to write. I’m definitely more of a writer than a talker.
1- I hate moping, and that's all I've been doing. Why would I want to keep a record of it?
2- When one mopes, there are two ways people respond to it: a) they wish you well, and tell you everything will be alright, & b) they tell you to stop bitching and get over it.
Both of these options infuriate me. So mostly, I've been trying to stay positive, but it hasn't been working. And maybe it's time to type some of this shit out. But in order to do that, I needed to be sure I wouldn't get the requisite "hey, it's ok" or "you're a whiny git" responses. Hence the no comments thing. If you really want to comment on anything I write, most of you know my address. And if you don't know it, well, no offence, but I'm up to my neck in differing opinions, and I didn't need one more anyways.
I think my mood lately is less a matter of not being ABLE to be happy as much as it is a matter of not WANTING to be happy. I know I’m capable of telling jokes and laughing and all that. I just don’t feel right lately with being happy. Like I should mourn for longer. And not just mourn for Baba either. But mourning for wasted opportunities, bad decisions, and another year gone with very little to show for it. Lately I feel like every time I’m about to be happy, a dark mood comes over me, and won’t allow me to enjoy anything. Like I’m subconsciously sabotaging my healing period, almost willing it into some indefinite melancholy. I don’t WANT to be Billy Corgan. One’s enough, thank you.
I’m not really planning to go out for New Year’s. I actually think I’d make a pretty lousy date. I won’t dance in the mood I’m in, and if I get drunk, I’ll probably just get insular and sad. Whoo, what fun! Ladies, come and get it!
I think I’ll be taking advantage of this here thingy more. It feels good to write. I’m definitely more of a writer than a talker.