Why do I feel so desolate this morning? Happiness is a chimera, whatever you think it is, it’s not. Life is just about getting on with it, day after day, one thing after another.
I don’t know why I feel so bad this morning, where this has come from. I haven’t felt quite this bad for a while, it just seems to have come out of the blue but here I am in tears again. Not just the grudging, day-in day-out little shit that you just have to keep putting up with it, but a real wave of misery.
I'm frustrated because I can’t find the photo paper that I bought last week. Now, I know how ridiculous and trivial that sounds, and I also know that anyone who knows me well would just laugh (like Hubby did when I told him) because, hey, how do you expect to find ANYTHING in that chaos, of course you’re going to keep losing stuff because you’re a disorganised idiot. But there are only a limited number of places where it’s likely to be and I’ve looked in all of them and it’s not there. It's not like there's piles and piles of junk everywhere, that it could be hidden in, like there normally is, because I actually tidied up quite a bit yesterday, so it's got to be SOMEWHERE ELSE, I just don't know where.
Now, why should that make me feel so crap? Because I can see where it’s leading – down the road of – if you weren’t so incompetent and disorganised and if you just kept on top of things and put them away in the right places this kind of stuff wouldn’t happen, but hey, that’s how you are, you’re a useless idiot and a waste of space and you’re not fit to be on this planet, what the hell have you done with your life, what have you got to show for the last 50 years? F*ck all.
The counsellor on Thursday was saying, maybe I don’t really want to be ‘happy’, whatever that means, because I would just have to change so much, I wouldn’t be me any more if I gave up my cynicism and my scepticism, and maybe she’s right, maybe that kind of ‘happiness’ requires a certain kind of blinkering, of refusing to notice the realities of a shitty world, a degree of self-deception and dishonesty that I’m just not capable of. But I’m kind of trapped in this box of mirrors, thinking that life shouldn’t have to be like this, but not capable of seeing how to break out of it. There’s a Cat Stevens song, I can’t remember what it’s called, or even what album it’s on, but the last lines go something like: ‘Life is a maze of doors and they all open from the side you’re on. Just keep on pushing hard, and try as you may, you’re gonna wind up where you started from’.
So now it’s time for all you ‘Happy Fascists’ out there to come back and tell me to put it all in perspective and count my blessings, and think myself lucky I don’t have any REAL problems and blah blah blah and throw all that guilt shit over me as well.