'Tis the season of my discontent
I like the holidays. I really do. Every year I get excited about the lights and the tree and the time off work and the trip to see the family. The problem is, it seems that year after year when January 2nd rolls around and all the excitement of Christmas and New Years festivities is over, I look at my life and feel discontent.
Not that I don't have things to be thankful for. I absolutely do. I have a sweet, supportive boyfriend, a job that I can now tolerate that doesn't suck up all my time, enough money to take care of myself. Good things. But I'm a regrettably glass-half-empty person, and when I look back at the year past I always focus on what I've lost, the goals I didn't accomplish, and those expectations left unfulfilled.
It's needlessly pessimistic, and I should probably stop, but I haven't yet figured out how.
There was a time I didn't feel like this. A time I only looked forward to a destination that seemed reasonable and attainable. I lived in an armored tank, rolling forward inexorably towards the horizon, impregnable and undiscerning. I wasn't really happy. I just sortof was. But I was content.
There are also these brief moments of epiphany when I feel, somehow, that I should just enjoy life as I'm given it. A veil is lifted and I suddenly see the full kaleidoscope of experiences in the world. Bright, colorful, life-enriching experiences as simple as looking out a window or smiling at a friend. But then the moment passes and I feel like, once again, I've lost something special, just like all those other somethings and someones and somedays that aren't there to fill the places I'd made for them. Empty spaces within myself held up by memories, wishes and a starkly silent hope that someday they might be inhabited once again. The ruins of Roofus.
But I guess the good news is that I do have hope. It's a New Year, after all, right? Who knows what it might bring. I may even figure out how to be happy with what I have, ruins and all.
Roofus
Not that I don't have things to be thankful for. I absolutely do. I have a sweet, supportive boyfriend, a job that I can now tolerate that doesn't suck up all my time, enough money to take care of myself. Good things. But I'm a regrettably glass-half-empty person, and when I look back at the year past I always focus on what I've lost, the goals I didn't accomplish, and those expectations left unfulfilled.
It's needlessly pessimistic, and I should probably stop, but I haven't yet figured out how.
There was a time I didn't feel like this. A time I only looked forward to a destination that seemed reasonable and attainable. I lived in an armored tank, rolling forward inexorably towards the horizon, impregnable and undiscerning. I wasn't really happy. I just sortof was. But I was content.
There are also these brief moments of epiphany when I feel, somehow, that I should just enjoy life as I'm given it. A veil is lifted and I suddenly see the full kaleidoscope of experiences in the world. Bright, colorful, life-enriching experiences as simple as looking out a window or smiling at a friend. But then the moment passes and I feel like, once again, I've lost something special, just like all those other somethings and someones and somedays that aren't there to fill the places I'd made for them. Empty spaces within myself held up by memories, wishes and a starkly silent hope that someday they might be inhabited once again. The ruins of Roofus.
But I guess the good news is that I do have hope. It's a New Year, after all, right? Who knows what it might bring. I may even figure out how to be happy with what I have, ruins and all.
Roofus