*sigh*
I feel like the Once and Future King today.
There's the book of Lancelot, where he jumps out of a tower window and goes mad in the forest, trying to chase some ideal of purity, forge miracles, and do no wrong. I feel like that most of the time. Chasing some ideal, not quite able to make it. There's always something I can't see, or something I screw up on.
And there's the end, with Arthur and the tide of evil that comes to swallow both him and Britain, which he can't fight against any more--this ideal of might makes right. He falls, and it's all over. This dead dream, extinguished by his own frailty as a child--I feel like that a lot, too. Drowned in the sorrows of the world, and the responsibility he tried so hard to carry.
There's parts of Notre-Dame de Paris and The Great Gatsby I feel like, too, but the above is the main thing. I'm so tired. I don't know why I've been so depressed recently, but it kind of seems like it's here to stay--at least for a little while. I'm sure I'll continue my studies in mathematics, but the world feels like it's crushing me sometimes. Undone by passion, and by overwhelming dreams of the future. Tormented by hope.
I don't even know if those are okay words to use, because someone always told me not to exaggerate, ever, and to be as clear and precise in communication as I can be--and they told me with their gestures that they didn't want to listen to me, and no one else would, either. I don't know if I should just be quiet and let the world roll by. I don't know if I should listen to all these people making all these cruddy assertions, threats of violence, admonitions, condemnations, accusations. I'm tired of feeling unsafe, and I'm tired of worrying that someone will figure out something I haven't been saying. I'm tired of leaving stories unsaid for fear of offending someone or turning someone away. I'm tired of keeping quiet about the important things that have happened because it seems like someone else needs the energy more, or because I can't talk about something because I'm too tired from fighting.
Or making those excuses, because the real reason why I don't talk is because I'm too scared to say anything, for fear that once again I will be one-upped, admonished for being depressing, or flat-out ignored. I only reveal so much about myself here because there's no one I can talk to in meatspace, even if I wanted to. Sure, yeah, mental health professionals, religious figures, parents. But those are just slick surface relationships, filled with a soft sweet-talking buffer. They aren't real.
And I don't want to talk about those things, either, because I know it won't do me any good to talk about them. I won't feel better. I'll just have confessed, to no avail, and the real problem won't be solved--because I want to talk to the people who did this to me, and say "never do this again, to anyone, for any reason." I want the people who did these things that I don't feel like I can talk about to stop. Period. I know that they're still doing them, at least some of them, at least some of it, and I want them to stop--but these aren't people I can talk to anymore. Not while retaining my mental health, and not while observing even the more functional rules of our society.
It's so pathetic that things that happened two and a half years ago can still bother me so much.
This is one of those days, I guess.
But this is unimportant, so please go do important things. Do something good for somebody else. I want the problem to be fixed, not my feelings.
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Topic: Things that made you sad today thread. (Read 9786431 times)