Hope Contagium

A therapy journal of self-obsession, depression and meaning.

Tag: meaning

A Day

Another gray day making its mark on a black soul.

A gray day.
A gray mood.
A black soul.

Mediocre life.
No value.
No meaning.

Universe
Infinity
Death

Searching an Understanding

So I can see how a woman who’d long slept restlessly on peas might have difficulty lying on an anvil. Nevertheless, it’s a pity that she couldn’t remain within the still, serene well of sheer incomprehension. Oh, I realize you can’t stay bewildered – the need to understand or at least to pretend you do is too great – but I myself have found wide white mystification a place in my mind that is blessedly quiet. And I fear that Mary’s alternative outrage, her evangelical fever to bring the guilty to book, is a clamorous place that creates the illusion of a journey, a goal to be achieved, only so long as that goal remains out of reach.

 – Page 79, We Need to Talk About Kevin (2003), Lionel Shriver

The End

All this confusion. Why am I with this person? Better to be with someone than to be alone, I guess. We’re not even really together. And dreams don’t come true. Except maybe with Levin. Or maybe I just made them come true with him. I want to skip forward to a time where I’m not confused. Where I have a purpose. A person I love. Who loves me. A memory to keep forever. Strength built from one another. A family. Then I’ll stay there as long as possible. Maybe I’ll fast forward to yet another place in my life where I’m at rest and have a smile on my face. Will there be any place I would want to stay? ‘Cause finally, after experiencing those short happy moments… I can reach the end. Where no worries are found, no doubts, no unknowns. Just the moment where you let go.

Conversing With Reality

Life seems so empty and bad. I can always point out something negative. If I ended my life today what would people think? I wish I had the guts to kill myself, but even in that area I am weak. Will my past ever feel good to me? Will my present? Forever I long for strong love and acceptance. I want a love that tells me I don’t need anything else in my life. But all my thoughts are fantasy; unreal goals just building up the misery. Once I could find comfort in my imagination, it was filled with hope. Now I’m simply growing older so I’ve lost that ability.
The ugly reality is staring at my face, laughing, crying, and shouting at the same time. It hates me and I hate it. Reality makes me crumble and hide…
When will this uncomprehending, meaningless, pondering imbalance in my brain end? There’s no escape! Eternal anxiety with no trigger. Mood-swings that change in a minute. Confused, angry, tearful, cuddly, thankful, blah, blah, blah! Thinking about it is wearing me out. I just want to find peace with myself and be normal. If I can’t be normal let me be great! Let all this nuisance lead to a bigger picture.
But let’s ask reality: Do I have greatness in me? Or am I just trying to convince myself of a destiny? Reality just smiles patronizingly at me without ever saying a word. I feel its pity.

I want a reason…

I want a reason for my existence. There is none. I’ll have to make it up if I want one and when I do it won’t feel convincing. I’ve made up reasons before but I haven’t been able to hold on to them. Is recognition enough for your will of living? Is it a reason? It is completely uncomprehending how lucky I am to have Levin. No wonder I dream of a future with him and always have since we found each other. Lately I’ve been so happy with him or should I say exceptionally joyful of having him by my side; of knowing him. That might be the closest I’ve yet been to true happiness: the love I feel for him. The love and recognition he feels for me. But right now it only helps me survive, it doesn’t help me live. Besides, we’re only friends now.

Knowing

Often I have a strange longing for misery. Not that drama-misery I usually yearn for; the one that makes sense, the one that people understand brings pain. No… But the one I’m used to, the one I’ve adapted to. It’s safe there in that low. A familiar comfort in the midst of life’s battles. Though on the brink of insanity. A dangerous balance in uncertainty. A fogged clarity.
And should I go on and on… Filling empty spaces. Putting words in the blanks. Searching meaning, loosing religions. Loving, hating, not feeling. Struggling, being high on life. The endless knowing – that’s what’s wrong. That is what’s keeping me here.

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