Myself

Sometimes i feel that i try too hard, yet at at other times i feel that i am not giving myself a chance. Is happiness really that elusive? I have heard so many times that happiness is within thyself and is something visceral that you merely have to widen your perspective to see it.

I have effectively lost counts of the number of prep talks urong gave me. It seems to me that he is tired of it all in the same way i'm frustrated at myself. Countless times, we have part with me vowing to start anew and correct myself only to come back to be berated again... Like a stalled cart in a muddy trail, refusing to budge. Or maybe... I'm already resigned to having sadness having me as its constant companion?

Is it strange of me to have a preference to wallow in depression? I feel strange when i'm not sad. I feel emptied when i'm not, that's the reason i offer... Melancholy provides me with an artificial barrier separating me from the outside world, effectively so because depression has rendered me blind and numb to the pulsing and throbbing of the world.

I'm contemplating something... Whether i should just stay away from my friends. Because of my innate desire to be immmensely melancholic, i have also attracted acquaintances of melancholy, namely anger, volatility and mood swings. It's no good going out when i feel like going home within ten minutes of meeting them. No topics to talk about and absolutely no urge to start a conversation. I wonder for how long will my loner streak persist, ever since it manifested itself in my erratic behaviour during Junior College days. Walk alone, eat alone, study alone, laugh out loud alone and feel depressed alone. I feel that i am entombed within a shell. It traps me but i feel so comfortable and protected. Perhaps i have ceased for a very long time, to be an effective friend.

While i was the kind of person to directly approach strangers in social functions to strike up conversations in the past, i now come to perceive myself as a loner of few words who appears too proud to speak. My enthusiasm for activities is steadily ebbing away and my energy levels for socialising, declining.

Will i eventually turn out to be a victim of my own making? Will i continue to trawl the world alone, feeling comfortable with no company when in fact my heart is heaving with excruciating pain? I don't quite comprehend myself these days... I appear to be at odds with myself. Opposing voices with radically different agendas to push for have emerged in my mind. I hope that i won't be consumed by the insanity of it all.