Wednesday, 11 May 2011

I'm finding it hard to stay mildly enthusiastic about anything these days. I can't be arsed with social networking sites, games, TV, movies or even breathing any more. I've talked about depression before, and I know that's all it is....but it feels different. I feel a level of apathy towards everything that feels sensible, logical even.

The country is going down the pan, and we send billions out to other countries only for another disaster to happen. Hospitals can't afford staff or medication. Schools can't afford teachers, and I can't afford fuel to get anywhere to cheer myself up...including the doctors. So what's the fucking point?

I've been fighting an enormous urge to blow every penny I have and just fuck off into the sunset, never to be heard of again. We delude ourselves about life and freedom. How many of us can truly do what we want when we want? Ever missed a party because you had work the next morning? Can't sod off for the weekend because there's no-one to walk the dog? Sorry can't go to that festival, have to pay the mortgage?

In a way it makes sense that we romanticise cowboys, Victorian explorers, Alexander Supertramp and Dr Geebers (if you've never heard of the last two I strongly suggest looking them up). They had adventures and weren't tied down by Ikea and managers. They had the freedom that is yearned for in all our psyches.

Maybe that's what's really wrong with me. I'm a caged animal. A dolphin in a fish tank. I need some space to run around and frolic for a while, perhaps we all do. So I guess it comes down to blowing my brains out or breaking out of my rusty cage. I know what sounds more fun. Somewhere out there is a beach, and a sunrise, with my name on it.

If only.

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