Today has been one of the bigger melancholic days I have had in a long time. Damn, that doesn't read like a proper sentence.. Well, it was a very melancholic day.
I moved into a PG and I feel more isolated living with a roommate than I did living by myself. I cannot explain this, but I hate it that this explains the old adage that people can be lonelier living among people than living with themselves. I just feel like I gave in and posted a facebook meme. In fact, I think there is one up on my feed right now, reading the exact same thing.
Somehow I don't have things to look forward to. And I cannot seem to count the positives in my life anymore. I was bad at arithmetic anyway. I go to work, but I'm past the two month stage, so the shiny excitement is gone. And I have exactly ONE go to person in this entire city. ONE. Maybe I have not cultivated anyone else, or I never seem to have the energy to look people up and call them and do things. But it seems easier to feel shitty doing things by myself and feeling pathetic about it.
I have ranted here about how society has conditioned us to want to be with people and if not, feel pathetic about being alone. Well, I don't think I can rant about it anymore. I can only just say that it feels shitty to be in a public place like a movie hall and be by myself. Yes there is a freedom to cry in the darkened theatre and I indulged in the unfiltered melancholia and let the tears fall as I sobbed quite shamelessly as the movie I was watching pushed the buttons. Its like I paid three hundred bucks to find a place and a subliminal permission to cry. Somehow, I had stopped allowing myself to feel sad and lonely. It had become very scientific and clinical. I would coldly observe that I was quite alone, and hence lonely and that was it. I moved on to volubly project the pleasures of being by oneself.
Yet it only takes one thought and a day and a series of situations and the water escapes the hands of the little boy with his finger in a hole in the wall and the sea escapes. Everyone at work goes home for the weekend early because they are done, and can't wait to get out of work, while I sit, potter away, working, because what else would I do? Come back to the PG and feel more isolated because the person I'm rooming with is not really my friend and doesnt talk so much? The one person who I can call on, is broke, has her own thing going so im on my own. Blow number One. I try to fix the situation. I decide to go to a movie. I go, get a ticket, and a healthy dose of looks from couples and friends who are there to watch the film. Yes I feel like more of a freak. I watch the film, and I cry. Because its about home, my home, my state and moral of the story is that everyone falls in love and finds someone to love or to have, or life is unsuccessful. Even mentally and physically challenged ones. Subtext is, you don't have anyone, and look at you, sitting by yourself watching this and crying.
Why is that always the moral of the story? Why is it being reinforced through every fucking possible media that you need companionship and love or there is no hope? What about people like me? Living away from their homes, out of touch with their friends, working, and has not had a single hug from any living person in months? Why is there no positive reinforcement for people like me? Why does no one say, its going to be fine, there's nothing wrong with the way you are. Why are there no positive reinforcements for people like me that doesn't enforce the concept that companionship and a relationship is the only way to be happy?
Because dammit, I want to be happy. I want to be satisfied with my sparsely populated life. I want to be absorbed happily in things that I feel compelled to do, like draw and write and read, and not have niggling thoughts at the back of my head that I'm enforcing a practice of activity in order not to notice lonliness.
But fuck this. Fuck the way that I'm feeling. Not even art will come out this. Let alone dreams. Dreams that I can work at. Its just a fuck all day, thats all.
I moved into a PG and I feel more isolated living with a roommate than I did living by myself. I cannot explain this, but I hate it that this explains the old adage that people can be lonelier living among people than living with themselves. I just feel like I gave in and posted a facebook meme. In fact, I think there is one up on my feed right now, reading the exact same thing.
Somehow I don't have things to look forward to. And I cannot seem to count the positives in my life anymore. I was bad at arithmetic anyway. I go to work, but I'm past the two month stage, so the shiny excitement is gone. And I have exactly ONE go to person in this entire city. ONE. Maybe I have not cultivated anyone else, or I never seem to have the energy to look people up and call them and do things. But it seems easier to feel shitty doing things by myself and feeling pathetic about it.
I have ranted here about how society has conditioned us to want to be with people and if not, feel pathetic about being alone. Well, I don't think I can rant about it anymore. I can only just say that it feels shitty to be in a public place like a movie hall and be by myself. Yes there is a freedom to cry in the darkened theatre and I indulged in the unfiltered melancholia and let the tears fall as I sobbed quite shamelessly as the movie I was watching pushed the buttons. Its like I paid three hundred bucks to find a place and a subliminal permission to cry. Somehow, I had stopped allowing myself to feel sad and lonely. It had become very scientific and clinical. I would coldly observe that I was quite alone, and hence lonely and that was it. I moved on to volubly project the pleasures of being by oneself.
Yet it only takes one thought and a day and a series of situations and the water escapes the hands of the little boy with his finger in a hole in the wall and the sea escapes. Everyone at work goes home for the weekend early because they are done, and can't wait to get out of work, while I sit, potter away, working, because what else would I do? Come back to the PG and feel more isolated because the person I'm rooming with is not really my friend and doesnt talk so much? The one person who I can call on, is broke, has her own thing going so im on my own. Blow number One. I try to fix the situation. I decide to go to a movie. I go, get a ticket, and a healthy dose of looks from couples and friends who are there to watch the film. Yes I feel like more of a freak. I watch the film, and I cry. Because its about home, my home, my state and moral of the story is that everyone falls in love and finds someone to love or to have, or life is unsuccessful. Even mentally and physically challenged ones. Subtext is, you don't have anyone, and look at you, sitting by yourself watching this and crying.
Why is that always the moral of the story? Why is it being reinforced through every fucking possible media that you need companionship and love or there is no hope? What about people like me? Living away from their homes, out of touch with their friends, working, and has not had a single hug from any living person in months? Why is there no positive reinforcement for people like me? Why does no one say, its going to be fine, there's nothing wrong with the way you are. Why are there no positive reinforcements for people like me that doesn't enforce the concept that companionship and a relationship is the only way to be happy?
Because dammit, I want to be happy. I want to be satisfied with my sparsely populated life. I want to be absorbed happily in things that I feel compelled to do, like draw and write and read, and not have niggling thoughts at the back of my head that I'm enforcing a practice of activity in order not to notice lonliness.
But fuck this. Fuck the way that I'm feeling. Not even art will come out this. Let alone dreams. Dreams that I can work at. Its just a fuck all day, thats all.
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