The drudgery seemed never ending.
Try as he could, it felt as if he were running out of energy, time and things that served to motivate him to get up every day and so something, anything. He could not understand what was happening to him. Everything felt fine, but everything also felt not so fine. Initially, he thought it was about money. He was doing fine in that respect, but not spectacular by any means. Later he had changed his mind and put it down to lackadaisical social relationships; mostly his own doing – apparently he just couldn’t put in enough effort to stay in touch with people. Finally he had thought it was about his complete lack of focus towards good habits – like taking a bath every day or washing his clothes or maybe eating healthy food instead of the junk he was binging on, on a daily basis or maybe his utter lack of dedication towards reading books or meditating for stretches of time.
Maybe he could just start exercising and it would all be fine.
And he had started to do so. But things still sucked and he was back to square one. It seemed as if his brain wanted all the pleasures of life without the pain, struggles or the soreness or the emotional dramas or traumas. He hated emotions to the core, but now he was thinking as if he was making a serious mistake in ignoring his emotional side. Maybe he was just a dork after all, intent to let life pass by, watching the others come good, while he would be content to lay on the sidelines and pass comments. Just thinking about it gave him the shudders. What was fuck was wrong with him? Sometimes, he felt like screaming, his thoughts racing to and fro, from one extreme end to the other, sometimes violent, sometimes progressive. He thought about meeting a therapist but hadn’t done so, so far because deep underneath, he still kept telling himself that he was fine.
There had been moments of brief progress.
He had started to read two newspapers every day in the morning; intently focused on the ins and outs of the government, businesses, technology and financing trends. For some time he felt he could understand the world as it was. But as the day progressed he would feel like letting go of it all; and running away; without knowing what exactly he wanted to run away from. Maybe capitalism’s ode of intellectual competition wasn’t suiting him. Maybe he needed a girlfriend who could provide some stability to his life and calm down his extremes. Maybe he wanted to pick up a machete and start running around hacking people to death. He had no idea why he would think about such things. But he knew he would never start hacking at people with sharp objects because the reality of actually doing so would be terrifying. Not to mention the prospect of being tried for it in front of a judge for murder. He wished he could eliminate such thoughts. He would laugh at it for some reason; much to his own consternation.
What could be do? It seemed as if this constant sense of pointlessness seemed to turn on him wherever he went, whatever he did, whatever he felt. His focus at work was fine, although he wished he were faster. He wanted to be fast. Fast in thought, fast in action and fast in execution. He wanted to create things. The world around him did feel exciting at times, and try as he could he wished he could have positive thoughts all the time. He wished he could control and command the thoughts he wanted to think. Sometime, a few months ago he had read ‘Think and Grow Rich’ by Napoleon hill and his advice was simple: thoughts become things; therefore your dominating thoughts actually manifest into reality.
So did that mean he needed to deliberately think about his thoughts?