The trouble is – that with all the best will and intention of doing the best thing to do, my mind becomes unattached to that thing, to that idea and to the feelings of that idea and when that happens I feel stuck. Stuck in a limbo and stuck in thought. The thought that I SHOULD be doing, along with the reality that I’m not.
Hey, maybe this is all a dream and nothing matters, nothing is real and nothing counts? Maybe I’m wrong in being and feeling like I’m living an existence? A lie? A make-believe fantasy? A where does this end and when does real life start? I live and spend 95% of my time on my own and I have a mental illness which is Bipolar/Personality Disorder. Yeah I’m on a dose of the right medications and I feel really balanced and sound and what I can’t work out is who the fuck I really am! Because one day I’ll be listening to some fantastic advice and thinking that this is it! This is just what I need to hear and then the next day I couldn’t give a shit and I lapse into some sort of an entity that doesn’t care.
As The Four Tops once sang, “it’s all in the game”. Even writing this what I’m writing now, I’m wondering why I’m doing it and wondering who it’s for? It feels like I’m talking to a void. An emptiness, a hole in life that’s not really there.
Do you want to know what’s really on my mind?
It’s that I wish my son was here to give me some feedback and some kind of a sense of normality with what I’m doing. I have NO IDEA where this blog/site is going and although I originally said I’m leaving passages and ideas that I think are worth keeping, and publishing them here and passing their meaning on when it comes to a real reason why I’m carrying on in creating this website/blogsite/utterings from a fellow being, I can only surmise that I like typing? I love sharing through this medium? I love words and I love making sentences out of those words. LOL, my vocabulary isn’t that of an author but I do know how to write. HEY, maybe I shoulda been a columnist?
Maybe it’s the medications that I’m on but when I’m sober I can’t think properly. I have no imagination or any creational ideas what so ever. I go into a trance, in thought. I stare. That thousand-yard stare, you know the one I mean? FFS…soldiers have that after being at war! I’ve never been to any war and I’m certainly not a soldier (although I did once try and join the Territorial Army). Limbo & Trance are just like two go too’s for me and if I don’t catch myself I’ll be overwhelmed with either one of them, or maybe both, sitting and staring at the washing up that needs to be done not thinking anything, just staring. So I catch myself, do the washing up and get about my day. If I were a betting man I’d put odds on it that I’d be in the same situation again only somewhere else. Please don’t think I’m looking for sympathy, no yuck! No, I’m just talking to you, well there’s no one else around so why not? 🙂
Why do I love this Medium?
If the truth is known I’m not a great conversationalist anyway! I hate chit-chat and I’m a thinker, not a talker. However, get me in the right mood and I’ll talk for England, and crack jokes – just like a comedian lol. It’s just a pity that I have to be sober and boring with it. No. Don’t get me wrong, even when I’m merry at times I still don’t feel myself and wish I was somewhere else. Oh to be normal! What is normal? Normal to me is being on my own in a quiet room, maybe having the raindrops splash on the window leaving the lovely sound of pitter-patter on my window, in front of my PC screen on my chair, looking at this keyboard as I type (trying to be as fluent hitting the keys as I can), then checking what I’ve typed by looking at the screen.