These days I can’t help feeling a little bored and disillusioned with life. It’s hard to explain exactly why this melancholy has fallen upon me, but I feel almost as though reality has nothing very exciting to offer anymore. I can see my life mapped out before me, very clearly–a lot of studying, followed by working, then perhaps meeting someone and starting my own family, going on holidays if I can save up for them and spending time with family and friends—and it just doesn’t seem the least bit novel or interesting. Reality is bland, as bland as the world you see before you at the very moment, and perhaps this particular dreamer is being too ungrateful—after all, reality still has many wonderful things to offer, think of the wonders of nature!—but that is the way I feel at the moment, and that, I believe, is the way things will stay.
Everything seems like a game to me, with money the social lubricant. All of society is set up like some immense game, with investments in particular things, like stocks or education, leading to increases in money, which leads to increases in pleasures, like nice food or holidays, bigger houses and better cars. Very shallow and materialistic, if you ask me, and also very isolating; I don’t know about you, but there’s something about modern society that feels very lonely, as if people, in their cars, on their way to work, or driven by some force to be separate from one another. This “game-like” quality to society was one of the reasons I got so depressed a while back—I felt like I couldn’t play the game at all, because I was such an introverted daydreamer that no jobs were suited to me, and I couldn’t succeed as a writer—though thankfully I am no over that and once more feel myself to be capable of being a productive member of society. So this dreamer will play the game, if only for a chance to gain at some happiness.
I can’t imagine finding someone, though, and by “someone”, yes, I do mean a significant other. Sometimes, to reassure myself, I remind myself that there are 7 billion people on the planet for a reason, so that even the most introverted and awkward of people certainly eventually find a mate. Still, it is hard to imagine someone entering my life in that particular way, if you know what I mean, something so entirely foreign and strange about it. I’m so accustomed to life revolving around my mother and brother that I can’t envision another person entering the scene, penetrating the defences of my heart, and becoming enfolded into my life. As a child, I longed for the typical marriage, for the perfect white wedding and my Prince in Charming, but now that I’ve grown older, my view on love and romance as changed, become more realistic, and all I hope for is someone who is reasonably good-looking, has a job and life of his own, and is kind. Even the idea of someone expressing interest in me is unbelievable, to the point where if someone actually did show an interest in me, I think I could feel as though reality had warped out of shape for a split second, gone awry.
Until July, which is when my course starts, I won’t have much to do–and finding a part-time job, for this particular introverted dreamer, has not been the easiest of things–so I’ll probably be posting one blog post a day, simply because I have so much spare time, and because my fiction writing crawls along at a snail pace, at the rate of a page a day, to stave off boredom. So I’m definitely back for good, though I’m not too sure how I am going to fill the next four months. I’m thinking of doing some volunteering, or perhaps visiting the library a little more often than I already do, to borrow books to read, and seeing as I have nothing else to do a little housework. It’s still not much, though, and I’m afraid of my depressive episode returning if I stay at home for too long doing nothing very much. C’est la vie.