Sometimes I wonder if I could be somewhere else in life. What kind of person I would be. This kind of question is a bit odd, since it wouldn't be the me today. It would be someone else, leading a completely different life and only sharing a small subset of history with my own. Yet, the thought is intriguing. All these possibilities, formed by endless variables in an unimaginably complex play of entities. Could some of these things be constants? Are there fix points in time? What if everything simply changed from one moment to another? All of this is pointless to ask. Life is in the now, of course.
For a long while now I've had to deal with more or less severe mood fluctuations. I could almost inexplicably turn to a really gloomy and foul mindset, degrading into a mindless, whining creature. Usually this shift only lasts until I go to bed. Sometimes by pure chance I would be able to force myself out of it. Other times it lasts for days and even weeks. I have been in this state for a few days now.
During a time such as this I get influenced rather differently than normal. I act a lot more reclusive and dismissive towards others and tend to actively seek out loneliness. My mind easily wanders off into fantasies and it pictures odd places and scenarios. Ludicrous worlds of futures and pasts that could never be. Encounters that the real world may never permit.
A recurring theme in these dreams is absolute solitude, bound to an eerie theme of nature and far away places. The atmosphere is very heavy and it becomes difficult to move or even breathe. Old, abandoned houses trying to stand their ground, rusty cars covered in moss, brittle roads run over by roots and grass; everything taken over by nature, ripped from its creators and slowly being strangled to death by time itself.
There's a lot that could be read about my psyche from these imaginations and none of it paints a pretty picture. I've been drawn to the idea of romanticism for a long time and it continues to fascinate me. Paintings in this style can steal my mind for long times and I cannot stop longing for the experience that this scenario would give. It seems odd that in a state when I am the most alone that I would wish to be even more alone than I could even be. I'm not sure why I am intoxicated by this idea, nor do I feel like I can accurately portray what I experience during times like these.
Even now as I'm writing this I am constantly drawn away by my desktop background to the world I so direly wish I could explore and perceive. There is something entrancing about silence and solitude; no other concepts manage to move me as much as these. This loneliness and silence do not need to be in the sense of being by yourself or there being no sound whatsoever. Being alone is not primarily about being a solitary entity, it's rather about being helpless, small and lost, unable to change the state of the gigantic world around you. This feeling can be even stronger for multiple people as despite the increase in numbers and diversity, we still cannot even come close to significance against the greater forces.
I suppose I simply am not a light person. I'm not cheery. I'm not nice. I'm very heavy-hearted and I take a lot of things very seriously. I wish I could brighten up for most of the time and be a better person to be around, for the sake of everyone else — But I simply cannot uphold this forever, nor can I build the perfect image I would like to have. Every now and then, I will crumble down and return to the slow, heavy-beating clump that I am. Of course, trying to be cheery and nice too is an aspect of my personality, but it is more superficial; a consequence of other desires and aims that drive me.
Make of this whatever you may.
Written by shinmera