a stream of conciousness post

I've been depressed for half my life since I was 11, and yet lately I've found myself wishing to go back to highschool. Or just be in that state of mind when I could guiltlessly dwell in my imagination. Now, I can hardly do that without feeling like I'm a huge failure and a dork. I didn't appreciate what I had -- but I guess few do at that age. I lacked perspective. At least now I have the perspective to know that I still lack perspective. But back then, I could be so shamelessly lost in my small mindedness, just throw in a layer of pining, insincere irony to be hip and I was golden. Now, I can only be sincerely ironic. Is there anything more pathetic? I've never been more confused and disillusioned than I am in this time in my life.

When I was in highschool, I believed people were basically good and bad, some were good, some were bad. Now, I know that everyone just wants to fill the hole in their heart somehow. Some do it by giving, some do it by taking. Nobody is who they present themselves to be because it's unacceptable to present your entirety. And I don't know if that should change. If nobody controlled themselves, life would be even more hellish.

In highschool, I believed there was some kind of fundamental truth. I thought humanity, as a whole, had an inkling of what was going on. I believed there was some kind of explanation, somewhere, somehow, for what this is all about. But there just isn't. Life seriously doesn't make sense. It is absurd. I actually understand what Camus was going on about now. I still don't know how I'm supposed to imagine Sisyphus happy, though.

I have deja vu a lot. I feel like I've said everything I just wrote before, and I probably have said some of this stuff, maybe even on this very cesspool of a blog. But even just regular situations, I'll feel like I've experienced whatever is happening or being said before. Sometimes, I can explain it as just being reminiscent of something else. Other times, it really is just neurons firing. But maybe my brain is doing this to tell me something: I've stagnated so long, life has seriously lost its luster.

But now I wonder, what about five or ten years from now? Surely, when I'm thirty, I'll feel similarly to my current self that I feel currently to my past self. And right now I wish my past self had appreciated his time more and prepared himself for what was to come. Maybe I can flip the script. See the 1s and 0s and stop being a slave to the matrix. I sure would like, just once in my life, to look back in the past and be proud rather than ashamed. To be genuinely content instead of hopeless and depressed. Surely, putting sincere effort into that is worthwhile.