fear and loathing on Irvington St
who is that person I seem to be watching? that one who makes my hands and mouth move in discordance with my thoughts and desires. not that I am deceiving you, you just aren't interacting with who you think. it seems odd to feel old on the eve of my 26th year. maybe old isn't the right word. used fits better. weary. slow. weak.
certainly I've always had a tendency toward malaise even though most people would describe me as optimistic. perhaps I think too much. too cerebral. I can remember a time when I was very young and a crushing depression fell upon me. I couldn't figure out why. I had done nothing wrong, had disappointed no one, had no worries. my mother and sister asked me over and over what was wrong and I could not answer them. now I am old enough to find plenty of reasons. I can remember a thousand missed chances, pointless mistakes, and disappointments galore. I've often said that regret was a meaningless feeling. of course that is only possible when you live life fully and honestly. such a life is impossible. I simply don't have the strength to avoid the compromises the world demands I make. so I give myself up a little more each time to whatever fate can do to me.
and of course there was a long portion of my youth during which I romanticized pain and love and their bittersweet mingling. I thought I could be like Byron
just as I said regret served no purpose (it certainly hasn't made me less cautious or taught me anything other than how weak I really can be) I've also said that if you are depressed or unhappy with your life then you are the only one you can blame. that at least still rings with some truth. and so I sit here on the eve of my birth and take stock of my weaknesses and lament my lack of strength. I've thought about it for days now. I've tried to blame pain and I've tried to blame love. it was foolish to believe that either of those could have given me satisfaction. I am dissatisfied and I can't muster the anger I need.
certainly I've always had a tendency toward malaise even though most people would describe me as optimistic. perhaps I think too much. too cerebral. I can remember a time when I was very young and a crushing depression fell upon me. I couldn't figure out why. I had done nothing wrong, had disappointed no one, had no worries. my mother and sister asked me over and over what was wrong and I could not answer them. now I am old enough to find plenty of reasons. I can remember a thousand missed chances, pointless mistakes, and disappointments galore. I've often said that regret was a meaningless feeling. of course that is only possible when you live life fully and honestly. such a life is impossible. I simply don't have the strength to avoid the compromises the world demands I make. so I give myself up a little more each time to whatever fate can do to me.
and of course there was a long portion of my youth during which I romanticized pain and love and their bittersweet mingling. I thought I could be like Byron
just as I said regret served no purpose (it certainly hasn't made me less cautious or taught me anything other than how weak I really can be) I've also said that if you are depressed or unhappy with your life then you are the only one you can blame. that at least still rings with some truth. and so I sit here on the eve of my birth and take stock of my weaknesses and lament my lack of strength. I've thought about it for days now. I've tried to blame pain and I've tried to blame love. it was foolish to believe that either of those could have given me satisfaction. I am dissatisfied and I can't muster the anger I need.