The first word that pops into my head almost whenever I want to write something is “darkness”. I don’t know if that says something about me. I’m beginning to think it might. I’m beginning to think that I might be on a slope downhill. I have a hard time really feeling that I enjoy things, people, events. I’m restless. I never know quite what to do, and when I finally do something I’m left with a feeling that I should be doing something else. I’m constantly thinking about different things than the one thing I’m doing. I have lost my ability to concentrate.
I find it’s only when I engage in some form of sport, or game, that I can concentrate, keep my focus on the thing ahead of me. When I’m reading, my mind drifts off to far lands. No, that sounds too picturesque. It just drifts – to problems, conversations I’ve had, either in life or in my head, or conversations I never had. My thoughts wander all over the place. Everywhere but at the thing I should be focussing on.
I need some substance in my life. I need to find something of meaning to me. As I and my friends are growing up, there has come more distance. People are spending their time with boyfriends and girlfriends, on studying, working, etc. There’s not the same time for the long text-conversations as there used to be. People prioritize differently, and I admit that I do the same.
I don’t know why, but I’m much more careful about the messages I send now than just a few years back. Maybe I’m afraid that a couple of poorly chosen words can end the conversation, and then a new one might not come up for a couple of weeks. I guess that’s what you get basing your friendships on writing instead of talking.
I need something that can take all this goddamned time off my hands. I’ve never been good when I have too much time to myself without any distractions. I end up in a hole. I feel depressed. I’m no good at just going out and doing stuff. No good at spontaneously meeting new people. I’m just me, and I love conformity, and if I could have my way, the world would be exactly the same as it was seven years ago.
Much good has happened since then, but I’m sure I felt more happy then, than I do now.
Most of all I probably just need a new group of friends. I’m feeling quite rejected these days. Just a lot of coincidences happening all at once, but the force of them has really taken its toll on me. I no longer have any real close friends. I have some good friendships, but they are all based on something other than just the friendship. I miss having someone who will share their thoughts with me. And I push away the few people who actually do it. Either by being neglecting or coming on too strongly.
So I search for the happiness in games. Which has got me wondering about the border between games and real life. Fiction and reality. What should life be based on? From where should happiness come? The easy answer ought to be real life. But that just goes to show my state of mind. Meaning can be placed wherever we want to place it. It can be placed in a game just as well as a relationship. My problem is that the games I’m in are moving along really slowly, so they don’t offer me anything new for long periods of time. It’s bad, but the same can be found in relationships that move along at glacier speed. They make you feel restless as well. Make you feel as if you’re stuck in one place, not likely to get anywhere for the foreseeable future.
I still do believe real life ought to be the home of happiness. But when it’s not, you have to try to work something out some other way.
These days are when I feel the most that real happiness comes from interaction. That mankind was made to be around each other, was meant to share and evolve. I’ve had a hard time understanding why we always have to get somewhere, produce something, make something new. But I think I see it now. It’s not so much for the need of those things, some inner desire to produce. It’s because of the restlessness in standing still, in doing the same thing day in and day out.
This is probably the curse of the Homo sapiens: We are never content with what we have. Onwards and upwards.
As I wrote the other day, I should spend some time learning how to write a novel. That could be my new game, until real life sweeps me off my feet. It should suit me really well, having a second life in the novel with a bunch of fictive characters who always feel like talking when I do.
It should suit me well.