Lacking

My problem is I don't believe in anything. I don't mean in any spiritual or faith-based sense (that's another discussion), I mean in the sense that I don't have a code to live by. I don't really have any strong beliefs that compel me to behave in a certain way and I don't have a blueprint for success that I trust enough to follow with any strict adherence. I don't really trust people and I don't trust myself which means I default into non-participation in various social and professional settings. I simply don't care enough to try because I don't believe, ultimately, that what I do or get up to has any real or lasting signifiance.

Maybe I need to have kids. Maybe they'd allow me to think about (and through) someone else for a change. Or, perhaps they'd inherit my aimless brand of listlessness and wonder why on earth I bothered to bring them into this world.

I know what you're thinking: when he's depressed, he lapses into this lazy, tired nihilist persona that confirms his own perceived failings and bores everyone else to death.

Well, you're wrong: I'm never boring.

But seriously, I don't need to lapse into it; I'm mired in it, even when I'm happy and relatively content. Case in point, I'm happy now, but that serves to confirm my view. I'm happy and I can't help but see the unhappiness that comes beyond it. I'm fixated on it, even. And the twisted thing is when I'm unhappy, I can also see the happiness that must surely follow..but what's the point of it if it's going to be followed by even greater discontent?

It's a beautiful day today and I'm going to go out and enjoy it. Because while I am quite stupid about seeing beyond the grey skies of my mind, I'm not stupid enough to not take advantage of the good while it lasts. Before it runs out and I'm knee-deep in a tepid puddle of my own ennui. I'm happy now but I won't be soon and, as the years go by, I don't expect things to get better.

In ten years, I wouldn't be surprised if I lived in a basement somewhere, long-haired and wild-eyed, with an ancient shotgun and a lugubrious-looking dog (not Mimi...not really nutter-sidekick material) emerging at night to buy milk and muttering to myself all the way home about the government and a plot to break me up with Carla Gugino.

I'm not giving up though (which many people who hear me speaking like this assume that I am). I always try and break free and my way out revolves around finding my white whale: ambition. It doesn't come naturally to me, being a listless, lazy bastard, but when I find my way, I'm as good and hungry and engaged as anyone out there.