I’ve been striving for a better and more enjoyable life for so long. I’ve been trying to secure joy or happiness for so long. I’ve gone through cycles of gaining and losing progress and direction. I’ve been delayed and derailed in the past but have always managed to maintain some momentum and the ability to recover. But I’ve lost that. I’m all out of fuel and viable options. There’s nothing to salvage. I’m never short of ideas and my imagination is boundless. I just seem to be incapable of turning any of that into reality. I try as best as I can but there are some things, so many things, beyond my ability to control or plan for.
So now I’m stuck in this uninspired and uninspiring life. Spiraling downward and desperately trying to recover while getting closer to the inescapable bottom. And I’m thinking maybe it’s time to abandon ship before I cross this country’s event horizon…
I can hope for, imagine, and dream of reclaiming a better life. I can envision the future testimony of how not giving up plus the faintest amount of effort could lead to a serendipitous opportunity to narrowly escape the pit. It’s a gift I suppose. It once inspired me to achieve but now it punishes me. It’s a cruel talent that rewards me like a wax carrot on a stick. And I no longer have even the faintest effort to give. I can’t meet fortune, luck, or favor half way. I don’t have the 10% seed to sow.
Maybe I’ve been foolish to try so hard for so long. Maybe I should have known I was trying the wrong way, the way those without my limitations and disadvantages try or at least say they try.
Maybe… That’s always my problem. I’m so full of maybes.
I want it to be known that though this may seem somber, I am not and have not been depressed or anhedonic. And despite my tendency for criticism and frustration, I am not misanthropic.
I laugh, I paint, I sing. I enjoy riding my bike at irresponsibly fast speeds on multi-use paths. I imagine making society better. I read and ponder strategies for liberation. I scribble ways to inform and inspire. It’s not that I think this world is better without me. Mathematically speaking, I think people are blessed to have known me because I know how rare I am.
I’m just tired. I’m tired of trying to afford being here. I’m tired of trying so hard to enjoy this place. I’ve run out of quarters. I’m bored of watching everyone else play. I can’t keep up with the game commentary and it’s beginning to be a bit of a sensory nightmare in here. So, I think it’s about time to leave the arcade. I know it’s uncommon & taboo for people to leave voluntarily but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It is mannerly to know when the party is over and it’s time to go home. It is respectable to accept and admit when you’ve lost the game. Yes, resilience and perseverance can be honorable. Perhaps there’s wisdom and courage in seeing and embracing the end.
It’s inevitable.