It occurs to me that all of life is avoidance. Every activity, every interaction, is just a way to avoid being alone/quiet with yourself.
I didn't do much of anything yesterday but binge-watch Fr1nge. Occasionally, it would take forever to buffer, and I'd be left sitting in silence, wondering what I should do. I'd get of the couch, maybe get something to drink, or make some food, or even just walk through the living room to the kitchen & back. I'd pick up my guitar & play half a song, but get bored with it & put it back down.
That's when I realized that I was trying to avoid "me". The idea of just sitting, thinking, getting into my mind, agitated me. I mean, I could just sit here & let my mind run rampant, act as an observer & just watch all of these jumbled thought careen past, but to what end? It accomplishes nothing. Then I thought, "why must I accomplish anything?". *Then* I though, "what else is there in life?". We can either meditate our lives away for hours on end, or we can go do "stuff". Doesn't matter what that "stuff" is, as long as we're doing something. Go to a show, walk in the park, try a new restaurant, chat with a friend - it's all nothing but time-killing, it's all worthless. Sure, these things might make you happy in the moment, but what about when they're done? You can remember them, how you felt doing those things, but if that were adequate, you could just sit & relive that one time you were happy. You need to do new "stuff" to make new "happiness" memories. You could share those memories with someone special, but what if they're not around? Or what if there's hasn't been someone special in a long time? Can you just sit & be happy remembering the "fun" things you did?
I don't know what fun is anymore. I don't remember what happiness is either. It's all tainted by a distinct lack of purpose, an acute loneliness, a sometimes crushingly unbearable distance/sense of isolation from people, even when in their presence.
It's disgustingly apparent to me that I'll never find happiness/contentment on my own. For me, life is empty without someone with whom to share it, but if I can't be happy alone, how will I ever be happy with another? The answer is, "I won't", and so I ask, what's the fucking point? I'm tired of pretending to care.
11:15 a.m. - 2015-03-08
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