Musings

2004-07-04 at 11:04 p.m.

I spend most of my day sitting around, reading books, dreaming, thinking of nothing in particular, constructing little fantasy worlds and otherwise entertaining myself.

I don't get lonely. I'm an only child, grew up with not many kids nearby, so I'm used to being by myself, and often prefer that anyway. When you're with other people, you have to behave yourself, really. Not minding your manners and remembering not to eat with your elbows on the table, nothing like that. More that you have to hide away any unsavoury aspects of your personality, make yourself the perfect friend your friends would like you to be. A mask. We all have different ones, different people know different aspects of us, and when we're with those people, you have to don your mask. But by yourself, you can be anything, or nothing, whatever you want to be. Imagine yourself the Queen of Sheba if that takes your fancy, wear that mask if you want. Best of all, you never have to think about how you are appearing, never have to watch your words in case you offend; no need to finish sentences or make coherent sense, who cares after all, there is only you to hear it.

I like being by myself. I can sit and read, sit and stare into space thinking about lives I could lead (but never will). Of course that's not so good if you trap yourself into a downwards spiral, when every thought seems to suck you deeper, when your train of thought goes awry and focusses on everything wrong about you, everything you would like to change, everything you cannot change, everything you hate about yourself.

I don't get that so much anymore. In the middle of the night, yes. When I try to sleep, when I look out of my window in the early morning when everyone else is asleep my thoughts can turn that way. I avoid thinking about certain topics, that keeps me away from being depressed. Not all of the time, but maybe this is normal for me. The trouble is that this past year has mucked up my memory, and has left me with very little idea of what 'normal' feelings are for me. Did I always feel good then terrible, then numb for such long periods? Maybe I did, I simply don't remember. In any case, I try not to monitor my emotions anymore. Just let them be, and during the downspells, pretend they are not there and they will go away.

My motto for life: if I pay no attention, it will go away.

Seems to be working so far.

Its just a shame that, viewed from the context of writing about it, my life is so boring. I get up, I go to the pub, I read a couple of books, I come home, I go on the computer, I sleep. Thats it.

The trouble is that by the time I come to write here I rarely remember the other things that happened during the day, the things that I am sure would be much more interesting to read than the mundane existence I'm actually inhabiting.

Of deciding to write a play, or try to.

Of overhearing people everywhere saying how much they like listening to 'Sweet Home Alabama'.

Of seeing a fox in the moonlight, in an inner city street.

Of masks, and the danger within them.

Of dreaming that an oppressive state had captured me for crimes against it, crimes unknown and uncommitted.

Of thought and of dreams...I never remember to write them down. They go, always unrecorded.

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