Empty Days

Monday, March 21, 2005



Solitude.

Woke up again - it's 2am. Neighbours are not to blame for once (they're not home) but it seems I already got into the habit of waking several times per night. And I've been generally out of my mind lately in any case.

Yesterday (Sunday) I was in a totally desperate and hopeless mood - I am living the depths of depression and yet I am very active physically. Biked all day in frisky air of early spring, sat in tumultuous cafes, watched crowds - and throughout all this I was utterly miserable and entirely detached from that whole universe - to the point of scavanging a front-wheel from an abandoned bike on the most crowded street in french part of town - homeless people act that way, as if they were alone in their living-room :-/

At the same time I probably looked fairly well-to-do in my leather-jacket and thus even more crazy with my actions (nevermind the fact that I got the jacket at $10 on garage sale, it's still one of those bomber jackets etc).

This feeling of misery and hopelessness is so very familiar, I can't even describe how familiar it is - and how tired I am of always having to re-experience it. This feeling comes from me trying to break through towards the world by performing all those "normal human actions" - like working and interacting with people socially or just go out about town etc. I think what happens at such times is that I am made to experience my inner loneliness with increased violence - the closer I get to the world, the more I feel how utterly removed I am from it. There is just no possibility of a door opening - because I can't open it inside myself, I can't see a possible inner community with some people at least. Nothing - no light - no entrance.

All this might also be exaggerated by purely nervous depression, like me raving for a smoke - I had to be especially disciplined yesterday to avoid finally buying another pack of cigarettes - the craving was just immense (and still is - I guess that's my habitual reflex while filled with emptiness, I literally have "nowhere to go" except light up and get some dopamine going).

So yes - drugs are a weapon against hopelessness - even if it's a bad weapon, it's the only one entirely suitable for the desperately lonely. It would seem that the drug addiction problems plaguing so many people is a sign of generalized loneliness and hopelessness of modern society.

Maybe.

*

What I am trying to say is that it makes absolutely no difference if I go to work tomorrow or not - if I do that bike-messenger thing or not - if I live or if I die. That's how I feel - that everything is in vain no matter what I do - because I just don't exist in any case, I can't break out, I am trapped.

*

The silence of night (all building asleep) is a relief. I do need a smoke right now. But I can't indulge in smoking anymore because I can clearly hear the noise in my bronchis and it's not very promising - it's full of muck. I can't deny that fact. So I can't smoke anymore. Maybe I should shoot some stuff then, heh.





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