Gray World

Although I wish I could claim to be mysterious and quietly omniscient, I must admit that I am expressly not either of these things.  I am neither a sage nor even a grounded individual; I am simply an unhappy person who doesn’t know quite what to say at the moment.  Instead, I watch and listen; and nod when appropriate.

It should be noted that, like everything I do outside of the specific jobs and duties I must perform, I am writing this on borrowed time, to be repaid later in lieu of sleep.  I am seriously unhappy.  I do not think I am “depressed” in the sense that one usually experiences depression.  I am unhappy because I honestly do not have much to be happy about.

I am supposed to be learning how to make films.

I am overcome by work.  It never ends.  Although this sounds like a dramatic statement, it is not, neither is it an exaggeration.  I cannot remember the last time I felt unencumbered, it must have been at least two years ago. 

I have been unhappy for much longer than that.  I have been slightly unhappy for as long as I can currently remember, but my unhappiness has increased dramatically of late.

My small joys, desires and hopes are being squeezed into nothingness.  I’ve never been in love.  I want to fall in love, but the idea of that strong a connection with another person in my current life seems laughable.  I feel alienated by even my closest friends, and I suspect they feel mutually alienated.  I do not have time to give them my attention, and they don’t have time to give me theirs.  Nobody sleeps too much, and everybody is tense.  We all work together because we don’t have time to play together, yet we still need social interaction.  We’ve forgotten how to relate as friends instead of as colleagues.

There was a time when I might have desired an escape or a vacation, but even this fantasy has deserted me.  The fruitlessness of such a gesture is apparent.  If I were to leave, I’d have to come back, and none of my problems would solve themselves in my absence.  There is no solution but to continue, but for how long?  The world has become gray, and I along with it.

My parents tell me:  “Why don’t you get out, take a hike, relax a little?”  I tell them: “I can’t.”  They don’t believe me.  I truthfully do not have time to "relax."  Even if I did, there’d be no one to relax with me, because nobody else has time to relax.  Nobody really knows how to relax anymore, anyway.

I desperately want to hold someone in my arms, without fear that they will leave abruptly.  I want to hold someone for an indefinitely long time.  How I might bring this about, I cannot even hazard a guess.  It is out of the question.  No one has time to be held.

I think I’d like to learn how to write, or I’d like to have time to think about the world.  As it is, I must only pretend to know things, and run my mind based on knowledge I gained when I was capable of gaining it.

I am a slave to bureaucracy, and I am terrified at the prospect of remaining this way.

What on earth has gone wrong with me?  Or, is it the earth that has gone wrong?