I remember a time; now I think about it, many times when I felt very happy. I would be creative, imaginative and feel an incredible buzz surge through my body for no reason. It was like a superpower. At the time, I did not know I was bipolar, and I did not realise that all this happiness came at a price. For every wonderful feeling of sheer bliss, there was an unequal feeling of misery, depression, endless sadness and pain. For one moment of happiness, there were ten moments of depression.
It seems now, as I reach my fiftieth year that happiness is running on empty and I have none left, I cannot remember the last time I felt happy. Life seems so pointless. I could survive the depression when I was younger because I could exercise the pain away. Being competitive though difficult when one is depressed can sometimes pull you back from the brink. Exercise releases endorphins, which is the bodies natural happiness maker. Over course, as with depression and happiness, exercise has its price and its called, wear and tear, which causes arthritis.
Arthritis leads to pain, and the pain stops you exercising and as you get older and heavier, the pain increases, and you want it to stop, but it feels impossible at times.
I want to make it known I do not feel sorry for myself, no fucking way. I want rid of the pain, the physical pain, which is with me every second of every day. Life is meaningless if one cannot enjoy being alive. I can't even stand for ten fucking minutes without my knees locking and the pain slowly increasing.
I get depressed when I am overweight. Fuck me, now I think about it everything depresses me these days. The COVID pandemic that seems to be created to kill the old and bankrupt the poor. The only people making any money off the bloody virus are the millionaires and even more so the billionaires. I have written about that bloody virus before; therefore, I'm not going to dwell on it now. However, imagine this. The billionaires from all over the world decide the world is getting too crowded, we are destroying the planet with our consumerism (which most of then fucking created), and overcrowding. Turning our beautiful planet, the one perfect for humans, into a garbage dump. Now they are sitting with their big fat cigars and their hoodies if they are from Silicon Valley, and they think, "How can we change this?"
One of the greedy bastards gets up and says, "I know, let's pay some mad scientist millions of dollars to create a virus that kills old people, but hardly anyone else."
"But most of us are old," says another.
"Yes, he replies, "but we are wealthy."
Everyone laughs.
Then another pompous asshole gets up and says, "Can we get rid of the poor as well?"
"Um, we need the poor to buy all our crap."
Then one of the newer billionaire pricks says, "What if we make it seem worse than it is and bankrupt everyone but us. We can get our government friends to give us a bailout and we'll make a killing."
Yes, this it is all fictional, but it certainly feels that way these days. The wealthy are destroying our world. They are so greedy it's disgusting.
Anyway enough of the COVID bollocks.
Writing is me trying to fight back, not against society, or even the pain in my knees. I'm just fighting back the lack of happiness, I hope, and it is the slimmest of hopes that it will help me become creative again. When I did write and paint, it was never great, when I was doing a Masters in Creative Writing, the dickhead professor thought it was ok to insult his pupils, now perhaps he can get away insulting a twentysomething. Still, it made me feel like shit, and it made me realise I was never going to be a writer. Now I have seen many TV shows and films where the teacher deliberately belittles their student because they claim that is how they get the best out of them. I do not think life works like that for the vast majority of us typical none genius types. What if instead of belittling and insulting me, he had encouraged me to do a better job, to work harder to point out my strengths as well as weaknesses. Is it just me, or isn't that how it should be. I never felt the same about writing after that.
I am a fucked up soul, and now, I do not believe people when they say I have done well. I don't believe them.
As always, I have digressed from my main subject of this post - never feeling happy or fulfilled.
Big sigh...
I'm listening to ambient music as I type away. Songs from my younger days, at the moment its Morcheeba. Music always brings back memories. Most of the time, they are good and sometimes sad. The song Hurt sung by Johnny Cash, I know he did not write the song, but that song makes me sad in a happy way if that makes sense. You feel the pain he feels as he sings, in the video, his wife stands behind him, and it brings a tear to my eye. When I hear Perfect Day by Lou Reed, I immediately remember Trainspotting when Renton takes the overdose. Fucking hell, no wonder I feel depressed the two songs I thought of one is about taking heroin, and the other is playing while the main character is taking heroin. Now I will say I have tried many drugs in my life but never heroin. Unless you count the time, I had to wear a metal frame held together with metal bars drilled into my bones. In the vain hope, it would stretch my knee, and allow the surgeon to inject collagen and growth hormone, to rebuild my cartilage. They gave me Oxycontin to ease the pain, but it didn't seem to do anything at least not in a bad way. I didn't get a high or anything from it.
They have just played AIR 'All I need', I loved the album Moon Safari, every song is excellent, and now they are playing 'Intro' by The X, another fantastic creation. Now I have an urge to listen to Grandaddy's Sophtware Slump, which is one of my favourite albums ever written. My favourite song is; 'Jed's Other Poem', followed by, 'He's simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot'. Oh, I also love 'So You'll Aim Toward the Sky'. The piano at the end of Jed's Other Poem, is so beautiful, I could listen to just that over and over again.
I know some people love owning albums or CD's or whatever it is you want to own, I prefer just asking Alexa.
It took a long time to start writing again, and I know no one reads apart from my mother and or some Autobot in Russia or the US. Nevertheless, that is not the point. The point is to help me feel better to help me understand myself and if by the end of whatever I write, I think it is worth publishing, I will, but not always. I may not be a great writer. However, I can understand and see total crap; it is unbelievable how many poorly written column inches I see online by journalists these days. Nonetheless, I cheat and use Grammarly as my editor.
My brain is starting to feel tired, and so I will leave it there, goodnight - me!
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