Waves Pulling Sand Castles Out to Sea
It may be that my hearing is getting so bad that I can’t even detect my tinnitus anymore. I’m not sure if there is a term for that. Besides ironic.
It’s almost the end of another year I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through, and I’m having some difficulties filling the time in at work. And, at home, I guess. A lot of the points in between, if I am being honest. But, mainly work. Though, I can blame a lack of workload for this tedium, it’s also me just not having any motivation to do anything. I blame that on that I’m not really getting pleasure from anything anymore. Not to steal from Green Day, but even masturbation is something I do so I just don’t think about sex or get worked up during the day. I forget when the last good orgasm I had was, but I’m thinking it was still shorts weather.
Yeah, that could be a Low T thing, or any other health issue. I guess, all of it could be. Or, I’m just experiencing my normal seasonal down-ness and handling it about as well as I ever do. But, I get tired of not enjoying life. I can’t even come up with any ideas that might make me happy. Well, I know there are things I can do to make myself feel less shitty, and I have to scavenge for the determination to do them. But, nothing that inspires me or makes me want to get off the couch.
Playing my zombies games on the weekend is one of the exceptions. I’m not sure why, but I get a kick out of the tediousness and efficiency that comes from a good game. There is probably a lot of nostalgia from it as well, seeing that it was a main thing I bonded with my online friends over back during my dark period. I miss that. I miss them. I miss the drugs and alcohol, too. But, I’m not going to recreate that again. I wouldn’t survive. Instead, I’m taking these memories and trying to recreate them without all the necessary ingredients. Like eating gluten-free bread and trying to remember how great croissants were. I don’t know if it helps or hurts.
Anyway, this is all sad, because that’s the way I feel. But, it is writing, which I’m forcing myself to do because of the reasons I just went over. It may help, it once brought me joy, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else. My only ginger feelings about it is how personal and honest I can be versus the chance anyone I know will read this and make things worse. Will I write something to get myself fired (again). Will I express something my significant other can’t get over. Will, in a moment of attempted clarity, I portray something that I cringe over for the rest of my life.
Those are all rhetorical, because the longer I go on, the more of a guarantee they become. I’m doing it anyway. Because, maybe going through those things and feeling those feelings is better than the nothing I’m feeling now.