Kurrs' Digital Tapestry of Words

I spend my days surrounding myself with people, or immersing myself in work. I do neither well, not sleeping or eating enough to support any real activity that I might consider productive. I find moments of enjoyment, but the sustained effort needed to accomplish anything of worth isn't really there. While I am awake, things end up being kinda disappointing, I can't escape this feeling. And there's nothing I can do.

Normally I disbelieve in these states, claim they aren't real, that they are merely fabrications of a society that cannot take responsibility for its own actions. The reason you are unhappy right now is probably your fault. Events happen, bad things. Worse things than anything you have ever experienced have happened more frequently and more brutally to people who have managed to be far happier than you. There is certainly the possibility that, genetically, they are better than you are, born with an innate ability to enjoy life because of natal advantage, or some lack of injury. However, that argument is one I tend to avoid and think others should too. Focus on nurture; focusing on the things you can't control will merely diminish your power over them.

So, here I stray, for a short moment. I don't talk about the things that bother me much, only here and to a few other listeners, and then almost never in specifics. Angst-ridden though this may be, this is still toned down. Because this is all merely a writing exercise, and I have no desire to cast a shadow of blame on people, because being cruel is being cruel, reciprocity is not a good reason. It's amazing, you have so much reason to despise the human race, yet still you don't. I, in fact, like it quite a bit, in spite of everything

But the dreams, they're making it harder to cope with. Every night, I fall into sleep, and I fall into REM. Finally, sleep is no longer eluding me. And the dreams, so lifelike, and ... Well, they are too good, too reasonable, too what could happen that would be nice. Every night I dream of a problem I have almost no control over fixing itself, my efforts at solving it pay off, the accompanying endorphin-rush lights up my synapses, and it seems so true.

And then I wake.

And nothing has changed.

And I try not to cry.

Written On: Home Computer
Currently Listening: Fredo Viola - The Sad Song