Posted by: docdenbow | February 23, 2014

You Never Get What You Really Want

Some people have an addictive personality, easily becoming dependent on drugs or alcohol or even things like exercise. Me? I’m not one of those people. What sort of personality do I have? I really don’t know. I do know that sometimes I feel very maudlin, down, some would call it depressed. I’m not sure what it’s called or why I have bouts of feeling like that. All I can say is that I wish these cyclical feelings of worthlessness didn’t push me down so deeply.

 If there is such a thing (remember I’m an ill educated middle aged tosser) I think that I have a kind of “victim complex.” I end up feeling that everyone is out to get me. That I’m treated harshly or unfairly and that others get the breaks in life that I don’t and are generally happier than I am. A lot of the time I’m able to forget all about those really negative feelings, you know get over them and realize that I’m being daft, but now and again something will happen and I feel that I’m sinking into a feeling of almost tearful despair that I find difficult to shake.

I hate myself for this.

 When I’m in this frame of mind my thoughts get locked onto particular events and things that I can usually do absolutely nothing about. Sometimes I’ll get locked into a frenzy of selfish activity, reading book after book on a given subject or by a particular author or listening to album upon album by one artist. Sometimes I’ll just write. I’ll knock out p*** poor short stories or blog posts as if my life depended on it. I may even have a burst of activity on the bloody novel and knock out 10,000 words in a couple of days and then convince myself that it’s crap (which it probably is) and after that psychotic burst of nervous energy I return to being a normal chap.

 Whatever normal may be…………………..

 In a person’s life there must be targets and goals that he/she sets himself and works towards achieving. Me? I set myself targets and goals and then do bugger all about trying to achieve them. There’s very little that I – me myself I – wish to achieve in my life. The one thing that I do want to achieve makes me feel so dreadfully alone. There’s no one to put their arm around my shoulder to offer real encouragement. No one is interested, so immediately I feel disheartened and lose interest and the goal erodes and fades to black nothingness.

 I mean what’s the point? My goal is proper writing, writing more than 1,000 words or so about some random subject. Sure I can tease and criticize Ukip and the BFRO, but at least the misguided members get up off their collective bums and the Bigfoot hunters a get out of their condos to find the elusive best. That’s not writing, that’s putting on paper a stream of unfunny vitriol that tells more about the writer than about the subject being addressed.

 Face it D, you’ll never write or finish a book. You’ll never get anything published. You’ll never see your name in lights. You’ll keep on plugging away on this blog slagging off all and sundry.

But you never get what you really want do you?



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