I need to have a good bitching/venting session with a shrink, my ex-best friend, some stranger at a doctor’s waiting room, or some drunken bum at a bar in South Beach. There are so many storms clouding my head at this moment, so much frustration and disappointment, so little hope and interest in the things that used to mean something to me, and no one to talk to. Addressing any of my issues with my family would be a waste of energy; they’d simply turn things around and make me feel guilty; they’d find a way to make me feel ungrateful for “all that I have going on” for me; they’d make me feel incompetent and unable of taking control of my own existence.
Now, do not get me wrong, I love my folks and I know that they love me and mean well; but I’m at a point where I just want to let all the emotions and thoughts out without fear of criticism or reproach. I want a silent listener. I am not asking for someone to tell me that “everything is going to be alright.” I don’t need someone to tell me that I am right in feeling the way that I do. I just want to talk to someone who won’t judge, someone who stays neutral, someone who opens his/her mind and ears while keeping the emotions shut within the walls of their own heart.
I know that I make no sense and I even sound bitter, entries like this one probably make any visitor to this page lose interest in reading any further. It’s just that I feel so down these days, so trapped in circumstances that won’t change for a significantly long while; I truly wonder if I have hit some new low level of depression, one that I haven’t experienced previously, one that is characterised by apathy, fear of the future, and a minimal amount of faith in the the forces/people/dreams/goals that had kept me going for so long. Maybe I have been taken over by some existentialist bout of melancholy. All I know and realise is that I am stuck and I no longer want to struggle.
Yes, I’m like some fly trapped in the web of life, awaiting some not-very-happy denouement. I see no point in aiming high when most of of my previous shots have been encountered with failure. I just feel like letting the river flow, like floating without resistance to wherever the stream may be heading. I want to let it flow, let it all go, let life and the world go on without caring much about the wind’s direction. I cast my fate to the wind. I set myself adrift upon life’s stormy sea. Maybe if I stop struggling I will save myself from drowning.
What is it that motivates these feelings –and hollow words–, a random reader might ask. I guess it is the realisation that I have been pursuing futile enterprises, dreaming stupid dreams, believing in the ideals and concepts that a consumerist society sold me, being naive and gullible. I allowed myself to be another pawn in the games of life, love, and knowledge, thinking and believing that hard work could make me king one day. Hell, I was content with the ideal of being a knight, the possibility of owning my destiny… I played myself… I allowed others to taste victory… I’m not sure if my cup was ever filled… I cannot tell whether my thirst was ever quenched… Ask me if I ever did win.
There are many factors behind these defeatist thoughts, words, and emotions. My absolute disappointment and partial failure in the academic endeavors that I once considered my raison d’être and happiness have a lot to do with the way I feel. I have even considered the possibility of leaving everything behind, forgetting all the work I have done thus far, not worrying about starting anything new, just going with life’s flow as I stated before. Academia, once my passion and life’s interest, seems distant and unimportant in the landscape of this young man’s existence.
Other areas like labor and relationships have a big influence upon my “depression.” My job is good in the sense that it pays very well, yet there are so many glass ceilings, so many daily threats, so many reminders of what corporate bullshit signifies. I am getting tired of having to make decisions over other people’s livelihoods. I am psychologically and physically drained by my superiors’ demands and expectations. I feel bamboozled, manipulated, and abused. The dependency that my pocket has upon the performance of sixteen (used to be twenty) individuals is exhausting and worrisome as the end of each month approaches me.
And it is clear to me that my own economic limitations –caused by mistakes made in the past– have made me a willing slave in a system of labor and production that I criticise and abhor with all my spiritual and intellectual powers. Corporate America is a modern equivalent to the system of slavery that our modern societies were built upon, middle management and those under their supervision are the replacements to our forefathers in economic bondage. I am a slave to my employer, own bills, my school payments, my poor economic judgement, my hopes to achieve the so-called American Dream, and the common misconception that credit and actual money are synonyms. Nowadays I reap what I sowed. I deal with what I created. I pay for my own silliness and naivete. But I no longer struggle.
There is so much more to say. I just don’t have the energies. I don’t know if I can even put the right words together. I prefer to stay away from the subjects of love and relationships. I am definitely not a winner in those fields. I have spent the past nine years falling for the wrong people. Other times I have simply “projected,” hoping for more than what was ever achievable. And it truly sucks when I can see the pathos of my own love-life being depicted in silly movies and sitcoms. I see me, the young fellow who decided to stick by someone who was seriously sick, in the Monday evening Showtime feature. I see me, the one who fell for the drug-crazed party girl, in the prime-time drama. I see the lad who was misled and then left on his own in dumb flicks like Billy’s Hollywood Screen Kiss. And then there is that recent disaster (less than a year ago) which involved a married friend, a nasty spouse, a string of sexual liaisons –that never included me–, a divorce, and plenty of confusion on my part. I can almost see Pedro Almodovar making a film about it. I have allowed myself to be pathetic in the emotional field. I created those embarrassing situations. I compromised. I learned to build a wall as long, thick, and sturdy as China’s own. And I no longer struggle.
I’ll be quite surprised if anyone has actually read and understood what I’ve just said. The lack of coherence is characteristic to my behavior in recent days. The apathy and pessimism is part of my own therapy to deal with a life that has become dull and full of worries. I have chosen to avoid stressing over a fate that I cannot change. I have decided to keep floating without fighting the river’s stream. I no longer struggle. And I’m finally learning what it takes to be really free.