Where Did My Dreams Go?
by , 07-15-2016 at 12:48 AM (1464 Views)
So. I’ve gotten myself into a strange mood.
You remember a few years ago when I looked up depression and found out I just suffered low moods? Well. I’m wondering if that’s true.
Sometimes I’m happy. Sometimes I’m sad. I’m not normally sad for very long. So not clinical depression. It felt insulting to those with genuine depression to call myself depressed. Well. I’ve been thinking about things. Also I looked it up again a while ago. I believe I mentioned that before. And based on my new internet research, I may actually have depression after all. Last week I was unhappy. I’ve been irritable for a long time now. It’s noticeable, to the only other person around me. So. Last week I was sad for no real reason. A silly reason. And mum, thoroughly annoyed by my attitude in general now, finally said “what have you got to be unhappy about?” I’ve said this many many times to myself before. So I know the answers. I just don’t want to say them to anyone.
I’ve come to the conclusion that, deep down, I’m always sad. I just don’t realise it. So when a silly thing happens that I shouldn’t get so upset about happens it just allows me to let those feelings out.
What do I have to be sad about?
I don’t work but am comfortably provided for. I have no relationships with which to have ups and downs. I have no responsibilities save for walking the dog once a day. My entire day. My entire week is nothing but free time. I have many projects with which to devote my time and many games and things to amuse me. Basically I do absolutely nothing all day every day with little to no ramifications.
So why am I unhappy?
Well. It’s obvious. Isn’t it.
The richest man in the world, who has absolutely anything and everything anyone could possibly ever want can still be unhappy. I guess it’s human nature to want more than you have and complain about it.
So. Let’s review.
I have no job. No income of my own with which to buy the things in the world which I may want. Because I have no income I am a burden on the one who does. Almost thirty years old. When she was my age she was already married with a house and at least hoping to start a family. So I feel guilty but not enough to fix the situation.
I have no friends with which to pass the time. No one to encourage me or inspire me. Seems mum gave up on trying to encourage me some time ago.
I have a student debt which only grows every year. Most of the time I forget it exists but it’s always there in the back of my mind.
I’m fast approaching thirty. Things are going to start slowing down and degrading. Soon I won’t be able to eat what I want and hover around the same level of weight without exercise.
I don’t exercise. And they say it’s a natural cure for depression.
Even on the rare occasions that I suddenly feel energised to do something it fades in a day or two.
Every day I put off the big things in life just makes it harder for me to attempt them when I finally have to.
Since I am aware of my own hastening towards death I’m also aware of my mum’s too. One day she’ll be gone and there will be no one to look after me. When that happens can I really look after myself? Will I be ready?
Of course. I could always ensure that I’m gone before her.
Every time I get sad I inevitably think, quite often more than once, you could always kill yourself. For now I scoff at the idea. Surely you remember my disgust of suicide. But I can never shake the notion that things in general would be better if I did. No longer a financial and emotional drain. Sure. A few people will be sad. Mum will be devastated. Maybe she’d never recover. But what would I care? I’d be gone. I don’t believe in an afterlife. If you mess up the first one why should you have a second in any way shape or form?
But I can also never shake the idea that things may get better if I just stay alive. Maybe when I’m fifty I’ll look back at these times and laugh. But most likely I’ll be more depressed by then, in reality. But I’'s nice to hope.
I know why I do nothing. Even though I have all the free time in the world and plenty of things to occupy myself but don’t.
I’m lazy. I’m anxious. I’m so unsure of myself I can only see failure. And I know why this is. I know all of the people to blame for this because I think of it often. Why aren’t I normal? Who’s to blame? I won’t go into that. It’s a long and winding road. Yes. One of them is me. Just so you know.
I have no ambition. No goals. And now I listen to one song that expresses this sentiment and it makes my cry. The Lost One's Weeping if you really must know. And my heart feels so heavy and I can’t help but cry.
Where did my dreams go?
I know I had them. Every child has dreams. Before they grow up. Why do we have to lose our dreams? Why do we have to grow up? Why can’t the world stay full of wonder and promise?
I have times that I feel happy. So happy I feel as if the world isn’t real. But it fades quickly. Even when I’m so happy, I think I’m still sad deep down. So why can’t I feel as happy as I used to feel? Why can’t I feel truly happy?
I was happy. Would you believe that I actually had a personality? I had weird crazy ideas. I had ridiculous dreams. I was bright and happy and so innocent.
I was actually smart with an unconventional wit. I remember that. I also remember that the grown-ups mistook my humour for stupidity. So I kept it inside. I was polite and caring. But sometimes attempts to be nice backfired. So I hesitated. I had friends. I knew how to make friends too. But they started to move away. I gave up on making friends. I daydreamed all the time. It affected social interactions and school work. They slipped. I tried to be athletic. But I was slow. I gave up trying. I saw no point in reaching for unachievable goals. I stopped trying. I realised that my dreams were silly, childish and stupid. I let them go.
Others moved on and I stayed behind.
Now I have no ambition and I don’t try. Even things I’m passionate about I give up on.
I have so many projects I never finished. So many stories I never wrote.
Somewhere along the way I've lost something very important.
So. Why do you think I am unhappy? Wouldn’t you be too?
Something to note here.
No. I’m not fishing for sympathy.
No. I’m not doing this for attention.
I don’t want pity.
I don’t want hate.
I just wanted to write. And this is what I wrote. Putting it in a blog just keeps it somewhere I can look back at it and remember I felt this way.



