Cyber Hobo

Okay, wow, been a while since my last posts. I suppose not much has really happened since then… just day to day living. I’ve been getting by, I suppose. My heartbreak has all but subsided by this point, so everything that gets posted will not be tinged with self pity. About that one aspect at least, there is still a lot that I can find wrong with myself.

It has become clear to me that my life is completely static, horribly, depressingly static. This is no doubt due to the fact that I… well, don’t get out much. This is an incredibly annoying habit I’ve gotten myself into. There are a lot of things I could be doing, day to day, but overall it seems like far too much trouble.

I’m not a productive member of society, by any means. I have long since found the root of this behaviour though. I don’t see the point of doing anything. We’ve got… only so many years on this world. As much as I tell myself that I am immortal and will live forever more, the fact is that I am going to die at some point. Could be tomorrow for all I know. I find it very hard to motivate myself to do anything in the face of that.

What’s the point of building a life if, or even begining to do so, when, in the very next moment, it could be taken away? That’s the question that plagues me, that makes me hesitate. I don’t understand how people can just ignore that aspect.

Have I become too focused on my mortality? Before the little crisis that shattered my mind into tiny pieces, I was a lazy layabout for a much different reason. Back then, I didn’t see the point of making myself suffer through a job I hated, as many of my friends were doing, because I enjoyed enjoying myself, I took too much pleasure in the simple things life had to offer to… concern myself with becoming an office drone or subjecting myself to the… distasteful nature of the “Real World”.

Back then, I was so full of hope and optimism. I don’t understand why this one incident, however painful it may have been, managed to suck all of that away. I am obviously a much weaker person than I thought I was. Regardless of why I allowed that to happen, it made me hyper aware of my mortality for some reason and I now find myself paralysed by fear.

I used to be as sedentary as I am because I thought I had all the time in the world to accomplish things, but now I sit here every day and do nothing, because I’m too damned afraid to try and fail. It’s pathetic, I’m pathetic, I know I am, but I can’t seem to break free from this fear.

Looking over my previous posts, I have come to the conclusion that this site has become a “How not to live your life” guide. I know that I have gotten a little better over the past months, mainly thanks to support from friends, but I am still a wreck, plain and simple. I’m not sure there is anything I could do that would make me feel that life was worthwhile. I don’t know if there is anything that could make me want to take a chance on it.

For now though, I’m trying to take joy in the little things again, like I used to. It’s harder than it sounds, especially considering that not even little things happen to me anymore. I suppose I should be thankful that I wake up, that I’ve got an internet connection, that I’ve got food… but… these things seem hollow to me. Perhaps I am simply… spoiled and not worth the air I breath. I don’t know about that, but the more I think about it, the more likely that seems.

I wonder if the people around me would be better off I had never come into their lives. I don’t mean to sound all dark and tortured, but honestly… sometimes it’s really very hard not to think that way. I suppose anyone needs to feel wanted, needed, and… I don’t know if I am… or if I ever have been.