I think it’s rather an odd sensation that people are far more willing to talk about their problems online, under a pseudonym, than have to tell people they trust about them. I think the guarantee of anonymity and the hope that nothing will come flying back at you from posting things, helps people to unload, so that’s just what I plan to do.
For a while now I’ve felt rather under the weather. In Sixth Form I achieved an awful lot and had to deal with an awful lot of emotional stress. There were plans about university, the strange and alienating social groups that surrounded me and more personal things on top of that, as well as the stress that everyone goes through with education. I think people who know me would agree that I achieved a lot in those two years but, when I left mandatory education and got to university I was hit by a strange and clinging sadness that never really left and it made me very uncreative.
This year things have changed slightly. I’m midway through my first term of second year and I’m finding the actual education part of my degree a lot better, but, for some reason, this mystery sadness still clings to me like barnacles to a ship’s hull. A lot of the time you don’t notice them, but you know that they’re there.
This week I’ve had legitimate things to be sad about. My Xbox 360 finally tapped out after 6 years and I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet. As a result I almost committed my entire weekend gaming time to playing Dota which ended with me wanting to cry after 4 hours of near constant harassment. Tonight, though, I have myself to blame for my own sadness.
I let down a friend of mine. He was in a play and, as is usual at university, no family were going to come and see it because it’s too far to come and visit so he asked me if I wanted to go and I said I would be there but I missed it. I have spent the evening like I spend most of my evenings; procrastinating in front of a laptop. I’ve managed to piss off a lot of people since I came back to university but this was the first person who I’ve pissed off who actually means something to me. It would have been so easy for me to dedicate just one evening to this friend of mine and it would have meant a lot to him, but instead I sit here wallowing in my own misery with not much to do about it besides hope that, when I (hopefully) see him tomorrow I can apologise properly.
This is the part of the post where I am selfish. I’ve never considered myself depressed and still don’t. I just lack a lot of motivation for things but I am trying to do things that I know I can commit to that aren’t just going to the pub or playing Video Games with other people. This blog is a good example of that. I try to write everyday and a lot of the days where I don’t write it’s not because of a lack of motivation to do so, but a lack of ideas. Sometimes posts take more than one day to write, but mostly it is that.
I mostly blame myself for this. There was a time earlier this year when I had the opportunity to start being myself again and get back to being, what might be considered, a “busy person,” which is what I want to be. I want to be busy because, then, my entertainment will feel like a reward and not something I have to make excuses for. I want to be more. I will be more.