My imagination depresses me. It shows me so much possibility in the world, but when I open my eyes and take a look around, I’m often completely unsatisfied with what I see. On the inside are my goals and dreams, on the outside are the actual tools to accomplish and realize those goal and dreams. Unfortunately, just because the tools are there doesn’t mean that they will be willing to come to my assistance. I always seem to dream one step beyond what i can actually find in the world, hence the depression. This depression always accompanies the resentment because “this is all I can get?!?!? the best I can do?” I just want to step into the world and pick up all the pieces that so nicely fit together to form my life puzzle. This often takes more work, more money, and more energy than I forecast and often leaves me with extra parts and relationships that serve no other purpose but to annoy me. I think I could cope better with more work, more expenses, and more energy being expelled if the “good enough” clingers didn’t drain me dry in the process. It is sad that some people think that love and friendship is in the air when all I did was say hi and have a conversation. I’m sick of being taken advantage of because I enjoy being nice to people. A smile, a glance, and a few conversations mean nothing; nothing other than the fact that you’re speaking with a girl who took etiquette classes in junior high. If all it takes for you to think you like someone is their manners, then I suggest therapy, because you don’t know what love is and you’ll keep getting in people’s way in the process.
There are so many things that I won’t do again because I’ve learned that they aren’t for me or that specific types of situations really aren’t going to get me the results I would want. But the beautiful part about it all is that I can just live it in my imagination, where, if I don’t like the outcome, I can ponder up an alternative or two or three all while sitting at my desk at work, taking in even more fuel for my dream world.
I woke up two months ago and it was all brand new, the light shook my hand with a smile, changing everything so that nothing before felt as if it actually happened. Then freedom set itself in through my calmer routine. Once the stresses of busy times subsided and I could sit back and reflect on the things that used to bother me, I found that not only did they not bother me anymore, but I also couldn’t quite remember why I was bothered by them in the first place. This joyful forgetting has happened before.
Liberated, I’m ready to go explore again. I just can’t yet, but I can taste it in my imagination. This tinge in my mind sets in only when I am not engaged in conversation or distracted by some other task. It is torturous, the constant salivating over something that you know you can obtain, the hungry knowing that so much time must pass before the harvest, and the painful tingling of possibilities of what will happen in the mean time…
I sit and go about my everyday life, routine after routine, carrying the thoughts of what has been and what could be both floating simultaneously with every movement and every word. Dreams have turned into strategic scheming and gathering of data of how of how to get where I want to be.
I must admit there is still one thing bothering me. But i think it is normal to be bothered by being told to go away before you have been given a proper chance. I don’t know how long it will take until my psyche stops tossing that thought into my completely unrelated existence.
The most lingering, absent objects in life seem to be those that I did not get enough of. For whatever reason I was inhibited from reaching some sort of full potential, which my imagination deemed possible, and I am left with an internal confliction which refuses to be laid to rest. At one end I am at the height of happiness with my previous experiences and seek to push them further (either in my mind or in real life). At the other end is the whole realization of why it is best that it hasn’t continued to manifest in this perpetual present time.
These two poles of the matter alternate, both with completely legitimate arguments on each side. When the happiness over the thought dominates, I am totally convinced by its outright charms… but slowly the happiness fades into more sobering thoughts….that only confuse the matter in my mind. The sobering thoughts seem so realistic and based on facts that, if true, tell me that my once perceived happiness over the matter is, well, not obtainable or not really possible. I tell myself that I must forget about it because too much is at risk of going wrong if I pursue what I have been missing. This logic, painstakingly, leads me to simply carry on with my current involvements of day-to-day living, with my hands in the air because I don’t know which side of myself is to be believed. Both ideas are extreme to the point where the only middle ground is to do nothing and wait and see what happens. If nothing happens I will be free of both sides…. if something does, I will have to fully face both of them…. I’m stuck in a binary box where the answer is either accept or reject and I have a binary opinion on both of those outcomes.
Words can mean so many things… even nothing. The driving force isn’t the words because they are only taken as harshly or lightly as the listener chooses to perceive them. The fact that they were perceived a certain way is what is most telling of intentions. If you want an answer you can find it whenever you like, but it can only be based upon what you already know bent to the limits of your imagination. The difficulty is gauging how far beyond normal the imagination has taken the story and what purpose does it serve to take a few random thoughts to mean such extreme possibilities?
I’m just disturbed by discomforting news and I didn’t want to believe it, because I was tired of being crushed.