Ok, so this is it. I am writing a blog. And as the title evidently shows, it will be an exercise in self-pity and a world-wide sharing of my personal view, feelings and sorrows.
It is a very personal blog.
It will be, or so I hope, an expiation and purge of my rage, despair, frustration, disappointment, sadness et all.
It has come about very strangely. CENSORED
Anyways, more specifically, I've decided to write it, as my normal way of dealing with these feelings has so far failed to satisfy me and left me still empty and clueless on how to move forward.
I tried everything else. A chat with a good friend, that did help me. She introduced me to Californication, the series not the album. Besides the copious amounts of sex in it I related to the character played by D. Duchovny, aka Mulder. The parallels are as loose as the differences, the character is a writer I wanted to be one, he writes a blog because he can't write, I wrote one because I haven't written.
Then, there was music. And football. CENSORED I would normally at this point just play a bit of Football Manager or another computer game, and I would start to feel not necessarily better but able to cope and move on.
Somehow, today I just don't feel like it. It could be that I'm older and becoming old. It could be that I feel I should be doing more to do something with my life. I'm not sure, but this time it has just hit me in a different more all-envolving way. I cannot move on and shake off the emptiness. True, I have had some pretty tough couple of months but I have had worse, much worse. Ok, I admit a couple of those I did not cope very well, but I felt a fight in me.
Now, just the emptiness.
Writing, has, in the past, been of help. I maintained a journal of sorts a few years back, albeit for only a couple of weeks. I attempted to write my ideas about friends and friendship another time, about 8/9 pages. I even had devised and structured a science fiction novel, with main characters which never took off. The laziness, again.
I went for a walk yesterday, alone with my thoughts. It didn't help much. It was quite enjoyable which was not the point, I was hoping to be even more miserable and have some kind of epiphany, but it didn't happen. Mainly, because I was actually distracted by memories, smells and prettiness. The point, nevertheless, remains. Yesterday, as today, what was left was nothing, just the emptiness.
This is the first post, but I'm still not content with my wallowing, further explanations must be in order, and further purging must occur, today. I'm gonna get a coffee first, it's only my fourth, I should be ok.