So I watched “Walter Mitty” tonight. One of my favorite movies. Always inspires me. Not for very long, but still. Anyway, decided to come down and type out some post about how arguing on Facebook is like combat, but I got to reading my old posts.
I’ve cried about three times now. Once when I realized just how far I haven’t moved in four years. I could tell the manic days, so full of hope. The dream to do whatever came to mind and not let the world stop me. Well, the world stopped me. Most times I am too low on motivation to try and push back. Other times I just don’t see the point in trying to.
The second was reading the joyful days, the happy memories. The trip to Worlds of Fun with the family, seeing Video Games Live with the wife. Such happy memories. Not enough of those it seems. I’m wrong. There are lots, they just never seem to make the impression the bad days do. My wife had to start keeping track of the things we did on the calendar to show that we do, in fact, do stuff. There is a lot there, just nothing big in a several years.
The third time was while reading some of the darker days. “Snapped” specifically. That was a dark time, one of my lowest. I’m glad I haven’t gone that far down in quite a while, and I’m glad I made it through. It does worry me that the very same things I ranted about that night are the same things I rant about now. These things bother me very deeply, and yet I have the same problems now as I did then. What if I get that low again? Could I stop myself knowing that I’ve accomplished nothing in the last four years except prove how much of a worthless human I really am? That’s when I cried for the first time, again.
I hate being weepy. Anyway, just a scream into the void. Fuck editing.