christ666's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When you're the punchline of the joke that surrounds you A long time ago, a member on Diaryland had found my account, read a couple of my entries, and commented on my notes saying she enjoyed an entry of mine, then asked if she could add me to her buddy list. It turns out she was a pretty active user, and she was a part of a community of Diaryland members who regularly read each others posts and commented with each other. It's kind of like the drama crowd and our discovery of Diaryland back in 2002. I thought her reaching out was a nice gesture, but as she was a middle aged woman from England, I guess I never bothered putting much of an effort to engage further, or even bothered reading her diary beyond an entry or two. Regardless, she still must've followed my entries, because she commented a couple more times, even offering some sweet advice for a conundrum I was having about a friend. Turns out she had cancer, and she passed away five years ago. On her notes page, there are still quite a bit of comments from that community telling her how much they all still miss her. It's pretty remarkable that this woman could touch so many people through her words on her diary, as well as the warmth she shared with her comments and advice. It's crass to make her death about me, but discovering all of this makes me reflect on the impact I may have had on others, or rather... the lack thereof. It makes me think about the communities I don't belong to, the friends I no longer have, and all the time I've wasted because I'm such a selfish bastard that can't be bothered to do more for myself, or for others. I'm not trying to be hyperbolic, it's just that life has become so lonely nowadays, it's hard not to feel invisible sometimes. I have so many things to be grateful for, but here I am yet again turning this diary into my own pity party, like I have for the last twenty years. I'm really struggling. I've willfully put myself in a situation that has made me simultaneously miserable and ecstatic, and every choice I've made since has been the wrong one, making the situation even harder to get out of. Like emotional quicksand. More and more each day, I'm learning that my decisions that I thought were altruistic and benevolent were actually selfish and reckless. And now, I'm doing that thing I always do when I wallow in my depression, and let my mind wander off into a fantasy that I know can't and won't ever happen for a variety of reasons. I get myself too attached to an idea, and the more that idea swims in my brain, the longer my mind tries to convince myself it's the best idea I've ever had, and not seeing it come to fruition could be the biggest mistake of my life. I can obsess over them, or in some cases, be haunted by their lingering presence as they beckon me to see them through. There have been a lot of ideas like that throughout my life, and I get passionate about each of them. I put them to paper, I extrapolate on them, turn them into projects, and some come together quickly with little impact, while others become real work that can last from months to years. A lot of ideas typically end up unproduced, even though they stick in my brain for a long time until it loses it's luster, or a better idea comes along. It's a pattern, and I've come to recognize it after all these years. I thought maybe I had grown out of it, but you know, old habits get stuck in the Nakatomi tower during a hostage crisis. In the end, a lot of those ideas were better left alone, and were never really worth getting that excited over. And yet, this time.... this time it's different. Why? Because it was one of the original ideas. I've toyed with it in the past, though it was short lived and the end result ended up being different than I expected, but it stayed with me for years in the back of my mind, telling me I should give it another try sometime because it really could be something great if I gave it the right care, attention, and effort. Suddenly, I've been inspired again to let the idea come to fruition, albeit slowly with careful consideration. I'm much older now than when I originally came up with it, and I've learned a lot about the different methods to nurture and build it to a finished product that could be joyful and satisfying. It's on the back burner while I'm dealing with everything in my life, and I'm trying my hardest not to get too overwhelmed or distracted by its abstract presence so I can focus on the tangible issues at hand. But I've been so depressed lately, the idea has become something therapeutic and consoling, only cementing it further into my heart as a worthy idea worth pursuing. But.... Couldn't this just be another unrealistic idea that only enables my desire to escape, fuels my need for gratification, and that my ruminations over its possibilities are actually an unhealthy obsession? I mean, what if the idea comes together and ultimately doesn't work, leaving me dejected by yet another failed project on my resume? What if it's an idea that only I think is good, and when it fails to turn into reality I completely run out of ideas all together? This latter scenario is the most likely in my mind. It fucking sucks. I have projects I'm already in the middle of that demand my attention, and as much as I want to see them through, I just can't help myself from thinking about this particular idea that makes me so... content when I daydream about seeing it for real. I can't help but ignore the fact that this is a typical behavior of mine, because there are so many things about its beauty, humor, and soul that make me think it truly could be the best idea I've ever had if it were made the right way. I don't think it'll ever happen. I'm too committed to other projects, I'm probably ill-equipped and not talented enough to actually give it any real attempt, as it deserves a lot more than what I have to offer, and because I'm scared. I wish I was better. And now, the pity party that I've been privately throwing for myself has turned into a pathetic rave, where the house music is just the ambient, depressing melodies from Hammock, the glow sticks are filled with my tears, and the ecstasy I imbibe is actually just little pellets of self deprecation. So, I can't leave this entry completely morose and unbearable. On a positive note, I have a daughter and a son who both love me. After years of wanting to feel like a father figure to someone, I'm literally a dad now, and it's one of the most satisfying and heartwarming things I've ever experienced. With all the bullshit I keep plunging myself into, and the annoying misery I love to bask in, it's one of the few things that keep me stoic, consistently anchoring me to the present, so I don't miss any wonderful moments that those children share with me. 2:24 a.m. - 2021-02-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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