April 29, 2013

Life breaks you down.

Bit, by bit, by bit.

I know I've been morbid lately. And an apology to all those who I've worried, and then worried some more by refusing to talk about my blog post. Fact is, all of us  know that we're all going to die. And there will be a cause of some sort. If it isn't the dreaded disease, we'll get run over by a truck. If the truck misses, there's a cliff we could fall off. If we manage to survive it hanging on to the side of a rock by a thread, crawl up the side of the steep, rocky surface, come back to the top victorious saying 'boo-ya' to the grim reaper chances are there will be a friendly drone primed and ready to take you down. Point is, death is never the issue.

Life is the issue.

And expectations, and dreams, and aspirations that are inevitably followed by disappointment, denial and disillusionment.

Truth is, life a few years ago was brighter somehow. More optimistic. Despite all the bad crap that kept happening, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

It doesn't feel like that anymore. It feels like I'm standing on the precipice of disaster, and every day that I manage to escape unscathed (without something monumentally bad happening to me) is a victory in itself. A victory you cherish by wrapping yourself in a bubble-wrap that prohibits (in the strictest of terms) risk-friendly behavior. Like job applications (where you could get rejected), or PhD applications (what's the point you're not getting in anyway) or new friends (no point, chances are you'll end up going out with them and  few months later they'll abandon you and move on to other [possibly] better pastures leaving you languishing in your misery and falling victim to unprecedented anxiety attacks undoubtedly caused  by mounting insecurity). Best thing to do, somehow, is to sit back and let life slowly creep by. No sudden movements, no sharp turns lest fate wake up and remember you're here and stab you in the back (again).

So that's my secret to as-yet-avoiding the looney-bin: bubble-wrap and baby-steps.

Thank-you-kindly, and goodbye-for-now!


Hanis. said...

This reminds me of a book written by a character in a book I read. She got morbid then really hyper and started writing a book about how lucky one is to wake up and not walk into the door knob and so on.

Anonymous said...

i love the morbid feeling.
so morbid and yet just cool with it. the deep rooted fear that was in your last post has matured into acceptance of facts in this one...

it's like a flip book of emotions much like the theory of evolution, apes turning into cavemen, into neat tidy suit wearing business men.

apes would = happy moody
cave men would = ? grumpy/arrogant/oblivious?
suited men would = ...

fact of the matter of is, at the end of it nothing is certain but death... the how, when, where is just a part of the story. the end is always death