A Moment of Weakness

Fantastic. That was completely over the top wasn't it. Well, a few days have passed and I feel a whole lot better about the events/emotional trauma/slight breakdown detailed in my previous entry. Really, it’s not so bad now that I've put everything into perspective. I'm glad I wrote it all down. Yes, its' embarrassing, and yes I could just delete it, but what would be the point of that.

I can't remember whether I mentioned this last time out, but I got a pay rise. A very, very pathetic one. I think the work nominal might be considered to be hyperbole when applied to my unbelievably small wage rise. I was told that, after a trial period, I'd be given a pay rise. Well they didn’t lie, but for fucks sake. I've only stayed there for so long to see how much I was going to get. I expected it to at least be enough to say that I can make a living from the job, but this is quite frankly not on. So, come New Year it'll be time for yet another new job. I get bored of work very easily so finding something else to do every few months has been something of a necessity, but even I'm starting to tire of the process.

Actually in some ways, by offering me such a paltry sum they've made it easy for me. If I'd actually been given the kind of money I should be getting for the job then it would probably be hard for me to leave. It just reminds me that whilst I was staring to get comfortable there it was never what I wanted to be doing.

My problem is that I crave the stability and respectability of a regular, well paid 9-whatever job whilst lusting after the something a little less regular but a hell off a lot more fulfilling.

It’s a lot of fun being me. Fun, but confusing.

Fear, Self Loathing, Paranoia and Depression

It’s been a long time since I’ve bothered to post anything here. Is that because I haven’t found a moment to write? No, it’s probably because, over the last few months there haven’t been any moments worth writing about.

My job continues. I got promoted after three weeks to Account Manager. For the first month it was scary and interesting. I had a whole load of new things to learn and every day brought something new. Now I’ve learnt almost all I need to know and almost all of it bores me to tears. I was offered another pay rise the other day. To put it bluntly it was pathetic, an insult. Mostly it made me realise that the one redeeming factor about the job, the fact that it gave me some degree of self worth, was in fact a lie. This job is worth next to nothing. There are people who are working part time in the same offices who have a higher per-anum pay than I do. I have nothing. I am nothing. I have no intrinsic value. A touch depressing I know. But hang on tight dear reader, it gets worse.

I have a feeling of stagnating, of not going anywhere. At times like this I take the only logical course of action. I peruse the pages of Friends Reunited so that I may depress myself further by throwing my lack of any kind of worthwhile achievement into sharp relief by measuring it against the accomplishments of others. Most days it’s just depressing, today when I read it my first thought was to end my own life,

It strikes me that I’m missing out on three key elements in my life, the Holy triumvirate of happiness, as I pathetically call it.

Firstly I lack any kind of fulfilling employment. This wouldn’t be so bad were it not for the fact that my wholly unedifying job also fails to provide me with a decent enough wage to achieve the second of my three objectives, to have somewhere good to live.

Since I left university I’ve languished in various states of poverty, unable to coble together enough finance to affect an exit from my dreary home town.

Finally, but by no means the least of the three point of happiness is a point that leads to the cessation of loneliness. To find someone, be they man or woman (depending of course on you sexual preference. I myself am partial to the ladies) who can be with you and forever banish the feelling that you are alone in the world.

So I have none of the above. I expect you’re wondering why I brought up that font of all depression, Friends Reunited.

I should backtrack further I think.

When I was at university I was, perhaps, a little naive. Oh, and somewhat damaged. At the age of eighteen, just weeks before I left for the University of London’s so called “country campus” Royal Holloway, my dad died. Not, you might think, a good start to my university career. It had, as you might expect, a somewhat profound, and indeed detrimental, effect on my emotional stability.

The she came along. I won’t bore you with the details. She had her own problems to deal with. I tried to help, but I simply couldn’t cope. My own problems were already overwhelming me and I had little left to give. I suppose I was of little worth. She told me she loved me, over and over again. What’s worse is that I believed her. I should have realised that she wasn’t being truthful. If I had, if I had been as harded to the intoxicating effect of love as I am now I would never have fallen for such a beautiful lie, never fallen for such a beautiful girl. But I did. And tehn I failed. She went away, she saw the world and realised my lack of worth. She came back and let me go. It was a hard fall, a fall from which I’ve never really recovered. I try to tell people that I’m optimistic, that I don’t expect any future relationships to go like that one did. But by saying that now I’m the one who’s lying. I know why it will never work. I know the one thing that all my failures have in common. Me.

After her I was more broken than ever. I lost my ability to trust and to love without condition or fear. That’s gone forever, never to return. Again I struggle to not use a cliché, but I can’t put it any other way. She killed my capacity to love like I once did. In short she forever broke my heart(see cliché after cliché, I’m such a hack). Actually maybe i should say that she broke me.

I read today on that website of misery that she isn’t similarly afflicted. That she’s managed to get her life together. She has a good job, a place to live and someone new to love. Someone she’ll soon marry.

And here I am, still stuck here alone, each day making the 25minute car trip to a job I hate.

It’s funny, writing this has made me feel just a little better. Perhaps that should, in itself, tell me something. Is the act of expressing one’s emotions therapy in itself or is it merely the fact that I have spent the last hour simply writing the cause of my relatively improved mental state?

I read back on what I have written and, tragically, I realise that my writing is full of cliché, indicative of a lack of imagination and talent. It is little more than the ramblings of a man who has never been able to escape an emotionally adolescent state. Sorry to inflict it on you, but as my Ancient History teacher once told me, it’s better to include tan exclude and given the state of my blog of late, it’s clear that I have been excluding far too much of late.

I’d best post this before I change my mind about sharing, just as I’ve done so many times before.

Goodnight. Perhaps we’ll meet again some time.