|| lonely and wretched
I've been thinking too much today. It hasn't been a good day. Lost inside my thoughts, I wonder sometimes what life would be like if I lost my memory. Not only the memories I have now, but also the ability to retain any new ones. Would this be a good thing or bad? That really depends upon which memories I think about losing. I would lose them all, but would it be so bad to not remember the terrible things? Maybe it would. Sometimes memories are all I have. Once an event is over, from the mundane to the monumental, there is rarely more to show for it than what is remembered. Perhaps a good feeling or a lesson learned. Without memories, could there possibly be any meaning to the things we do each day? Could there possibly be any meaning to life? But to ask that second question is to assume that there is any meaning to our lives in the first place. I can't say if there is or isn't. Maybe we're are all just here, then we die, then that's it. There is no point, no great deeper meaning, no heaven, no hell, no afterlife at all. Maybe nothing anyone does matters except to them at that moment, and even then, nothing makes a difference. I have no idea what I'm saying anymore. I never do. I get caught up in my thoughts and they begin to overlap one another, making explanation difficult and understanding impossible.
A friend told me the other day that attatchment only causes sadness. Thinking about that in the context it was in at the time, I agree with him. I look at my life and think of things that have happened in the past and some that have happened just recently. I look at the sadness in my life and what the cause was or is. So much relates to attatchment of some form or another, sometimes miniscule and other times seemingly life-changing. I have a tendency to exaggerate. I have a tendency to lie. I have a tendency to repeat myself. I'm lost again. I can't keep my thoughts straight. They weave and intertwine and confuse me as I try to pour them out. I try slowly at first, but as I get going, my thoughts go faster than the words can come out of my fingers into this keyboard or out of my mouth into someone's ear. I miss someone's ear. I had it once or twice. It made me happy. Attatchment. I cannot force anyone into anything. I am not persuasive. I am not forceful. I am not intriguing or interesting enough for them to think what I might want them to on their own.
Perhaps the doctor's suggestion and suspicion was right. My moods are shifting more and more drastically in smaller and smaller amounts of time. The ups scare me as much, if not even more sometimes, than the downs. Or rather the ups confuse me. I've grown used to the opposite, grown used to the despondent half of the polar spectrum, grown used to the voices making loathsome speeches from unseen whereabouts, that though I cannot see them, I know they are resonating from within my mind. The possibilities are greater in my case for the suspicions of my doctor to come true. Family history and my own personality...all the factors weighing in to weigh me down. Maybe its in my head...I hate when people say that though..."it's all in your head"....well of course it's in my head. Everything is really. Where the hell else would anything be? Oh hypochondria, you do so well to keep me company.
After all my incoherent ranting I suppose I will post pictures of the weekend, considering I took some and that doing so sometimes improves my mood. It could most definately stand to be improved.
( and here are some moreCollapse )