Typical Depression Number Nine

As Grand Admiral Thrawn-bot once said, love either happens or it doesn't. It can not be forced. You must give it up to the will of the gods and hope for the best. It is the only way. Do you know what else can't be forced? Help. Help can not be forced. You can't rescue the princess (or the knight for that matter) if they don't want you to. It may break your heart to see them stuck in the presence of a crappy excuse for a dragon that mistreats them, but unless they want you to, there is nothing to do. No matter how stupid, ugly, and punchable that dragon may be. You can't just jump into a situation without permission (And lacking all the facts). Greater men (and greater women) have been made fools of in such situations) Also: Go with the Obi-Wan rescue plan, not the Skywalker one. Or so says a jealous being such as I. I will never understand saying you love someone without having at least some concern about their needs. I have come to understand love as this: When they're happy, you feel it. When they're down and blue, you feel it. When they're tired, you feel it. You want them to feel better because you'll feel better, too. Because, duh! You love them! I don't know what this other (Mr Dragon is implying) but it can't be love. Just like Forest, I know what love is and her sadness is killing me. Too bad that it's hard to make a difference when you live in the Outer Mongolia of the Friend Zone. I really wish I could talk to somebody, but the ones I could trust with my feelings are long gone now. So here we go, Doctor Blog-ieo. Hello, Dearest Universe. I really wish I could sense your presence here with me. The silence amongst this noise is unbearable. I wish I could take refuge somewhere with someone. There is a tropical depression in the gulf. There is that typical depression in my brain. There is no escaping either. Not for me. Still, I love the idea of cool, soothing, rain. I can almost hear that beautiful sound. Rain is wonderful. Rain is beautiful. It could chase away this hellacious heat. I'm a bit tired of darned near being a Post Toastie. Somebody put me in the fridge. Damn, this heat is terrible. How I would love to be under a fan in the AC, and falling into the deepest sleep, that special kind of sleep that just plain feels wonderful, that very kind of unconscious bliss I often wished I never had to wake from. Words could never describe how wonderful it feels when the world fades away, and there's that perfect silence, that perfect peace. A soul can be hungry for that sort of bliss. What a wonderful feeling it is when that television snow drowns away all the pain, all the problems, leaving only peace. At least it could be that way, were it not for dreams. Meanwhile, I must deal with the waking world. Am I killing time, or is time killing me? I'm not so sure. Except, of course, that it seems we're both dying slow. Real slow, painfully slow. That is all too obvious to me. Help me Universe Kenobi. You are my only hope. Okay, I need to summon my logical side, my Mr. Spock. Because I have not been thinking very rationally of late. It's like that line in Desperado about all the wonderful things being on the table, yet only wanting what you can't have. It's true, of course. I have been blessed, no doubt. I should be grateful for what I have. I am, you know? Maybe it's just human nature to wish for more. Maybe my humanity can not be helped. One would hope to have had it all together by this point in life. Maybe I would had I let my mind take the wheel instead of my heart. Hearts can be reckless drivers sometimes. Oh, and highly illogical. No doubt, I'd give Mr. Spock one hell of a headache. Have you ever heard of a living ghost? Sometimes, I feel to be exactly that. Just walking the earth with unfinished business, only it would seem I'm still alive. I am not even an option, not even a possibility. I am this invisible non-entity. I am not even a conspiracy theory. When it comes to certain aspects, I apparently do not exist. They do not mean to hurt me, but it's painful just the same. How could I even argue my case? In a world too crowded and too empty all at once, even a non-being such as myself needs a place of rest. And that is why, dear friends, I still wander the earth. I hurt myself with my own feelings by wanting the impossible. Why can't they see me? Why won't they see me? I wonder as I wander. Is there ever such thing as coming home? How cruel circumstances can be, to place before me such a vision I could not help but love, that one in billions that for some reason is so endearing to my heart, to place something wonderful within my sight but out of my reach. Such light on the periphery makes the darkness seem so much darker, and the loneliness much more painful than had I remained ignorant such wonder existed. This is punishment. Do I really deserve such harshness? It is a prison with invisible yet tangible walls to see the beauty and wonder that might have been. Yet I can't really speak of it. The world lacks the frame of reference to understand. And maybe I lack the right to complain. So, here I am, carrying on with another day, being this creature known by expectations and not inner content. Here I am, holding the line. It is a bit strange to have been holding the line for so long that you are no longer certain why you have been or why you are now still holding that same line. With the years, it seems my focus has narrowed, has become with time more and more specific. I know it won't solve absolutely everything, but it might make the loose ends less stark, less noticeable. A genie could poof in front of me and give me a choice of a billion dollars and this one other thing and I know what my choice would be.... And while I know that it would be far more comfortable to cry in a mansion with a butler (or a cute maid) handing your tissues, I'd much prefer being happy in a regular house, even still having to grind for a living. Sadly, some things are far less possible than becoming rich. There is a wealth out there I wish I had, and it has absolutely nothing to do with money. Oh, my angel, my dear special friend. How I wish that I were yours. In a way, I already am, you know? I need only to be claimed. Ah, but that's a different story, my endless circle of words. Clean cup move down. Life is one hell of a cluster of ducks. And it's driving me Daffy! It's too bad that staying out of the nuthouse is not like winning the Superbowl. I'd be reigning champion! I'd have a ring for every finger. The first half of the 20s would be a series of close games, I'll tell ya whut. I'm not here to start no trouble, I'm just doing the loony bin shuffle. Here's to me winning 2025, too. No rings, no trophies, no wild parties with the cheerleaders. Just me avoiding those nice young men in their clean white coats. There is something very special about being here and alive. Or is it? Against the longest odds of random chance, here I am, right? Well, such is the only universe where I could comment on how special it is (or isn't) that I won the random chance lottery. Maybe I'm an ungrateful brat.... Because there is one thing more that I want, yet another set of long odds. You see, I have a thousand choices before me, and all I want is the impossible. I could dream and dream again, but the only dream I want is that which can't come true. I know I should be grateful. There is so much within my reach, so much generously placed before me, but everything I could have ever wanted is just beyond it. You could try to feed me logic all day long, yet I'd still go hungry. Logic left town a long time ago. It left the day I clearly saw what might have been. What I took for a star was a bright shining comet, passing through my orbit, and for once, just once, I saw what it was like to be in that light. Now, that light is fading, and I have come to the realization that as different as comets and stars are, they have one thing in common: I can't reach either. And that is, as the surfers say, a bummer, dude. As I have said a million times, I can't help the way I feel. I long for something, someone I can never have. And even though logic says I need to move on, logic be damned. Here I go in circles. Even in finite space, a circle goes on forever. Here I write in circles. About how I feel, that it is nobody's fault, that I should move on, how I can't change my feelings, that it is nobody's fault, and on and on and on. Round and round I go. It's a broken record or a looping tape that plays the same song over and over, and even I get sick of hearing it. But, it's me. We can't get away from ourselves, can we? Nope. There is no escape, at least none that leaves us living, right? Bummer, dude. This is totally not rad or gnarly at all. And wouldn't I love to see my surfer girl? Dude. Like totally knock it off. I'm driving me crazy. Well, they say one must take charge and be in the drivers seat. Napoleon Town, here I come. Sadly, there are no bodacious water slides. Bogus! Clean Cup move down. While I would gladly purchase a movie or TV show on DVD or Blu-ray, I would sooner set my money on fire than pay for any streaming whatsoever. Same with books, games, whatever. It's either mine or it's not. None of this having to be online nonsense. There's not really much on the internet left for me anymore. I could go on social media to be reminded of how invisible I am, or I could go on the news sites to scroll past article after article about the big, bad orange man. Neither option inspires me. I could check the weather, but one usually only needs to do that once a day. Rain rarely changes its mind. Neither do orange haters.... Or lovers, for that matter. Maybe there are a few Doom levels out there for me. I guess that's just about it. I could just stay here in reality to slowly and deeply consider and contemplate the foolishness and futility of falling in love with the impossible. Yep. I guess I'll do that. Ah, to love what can not love me back. To want what I can not have. I might as well be banging my head against the wall for all the pain it generates and for all the good it does. I might as well. It might be hell. Please take these feelings from my heart and take her image from my mind. It should not matter. It means nothing if neither do I. Am I blind? Am I dumb? Why don't this feeling have the mercy to just leave me? Robots don't have the intelligence to realize how lucky they are not to have feelings. I wish I were one of them. Some idiots don't have the sense to realize how lucky they are that she loves them, no matter how badly they treat her. If envy and coveting are sins, then I guess they are paving my road to hell. It's funny how it often seems I'm already there. It does no good writing in circles. Nothing is ever going to change in that regard. Neither the situation nor my feelings. It is what it is, and they're how they are. It's funny how much acting and pretending there is to do in this life. In a lot of situations, I have to act like I care when I don't. In this one particular situation, I have to pretend I don't care when it's actually breaking my heart. FUBAR doesn't even come close to explaining the situation. It's not just demoralizing. It's devastating. And I can't keep going on like this, can I? Oh, Mr. Spock? Help me be logical here. I guess the logical thing to do is to just drop the subject. I can't change it. I can't resolve it. So I guess I'll drop it. And therefore! Hmph Hmph! The time has come to talk of other things, Walrus and Carpenter style. Repressing strong feelings takes a lot of work and a lot of energy. And now? Well, I'm tired. It could also be this God awful summer heat with no AC in this place. Are we sure this isn't hell? All we need is some rock breaking, some coal shoveling, and a few demons poking me with pitchforks and reminding me just how far into the damned friend zone I am. Hell, ain't it? You're not kidding, pal. Hell, indeed. Now, where the hell is that clean cup move down I asked for? I don't have to have a perfect life. Perfect moments would be just fine. Some I'd be willing to work for. Others I'd just about walk through the fire for, just knowing what awaits on the other side. The best motivation is knowing why you stay at your post and why you brave the battlefield. Fighting wars for more wars never made any sense. I've got to know there will be peace someday. I am so tired of this soul crushing grind. If I had someone I could truly come home to, all the struggles might be worthwhile. But I don't, and they aren't. I feel like I'm paying a heavy price for absolutely nothing. Right or wrong, it feels real enough to me. I get a bit of silence at the end of the day, but that just gives me even more time to think. And these thoughts are just a bit heavy. In simple terms, I'm tired of this shit. This has got to be worth my while. Tell me, tell me, Universe: What exactly do I have to look forward to? What exactly am I working towards? Nothing, survival. It feels like such a waste. Why, why do I still bother? What is the point? What is the reason? What is the rhyme? It's not that I am unclear on what I want. I am perfectly clear and equally clear on the impossibility of it all. Why waste time? Eternity has been patiently waiting for me all this time. Oblivia will love me. She will not forget or forsake me. She'll indeed help me to forget absolutely everything, even myself. And if I am so forgettable, then so be it. I am tired. Without a reason, I have no motivation. I am tired of walking the earth. I am tired of being adrift in the universe. How does one visualize oblivion? Oblivia. Please take me home to the void from which I came. I have grown weary of this world and the burden of knowledge. Please free me. I hope none of these words surprise anyone. I did say that this was my note, didn't I? How does it differ aside from being very long and unfinished due to my not quite committing myself to the act that normally comes next? If I believe in oblivion than what would I have to fear? Although, I can't discount the beliefs of my parents and grandparents completely. They turned out to be right about a lot of other things. And maybe that's what gives me pause. They believed in what I find myself unable to, no matter how much I wish I could. How I wish I could believe in Heaven, that the people that I love who have gone from the world are all there, happy, living forever and ever with their heavenly reward for having done the best they could to live a good life. How I wish that I could believe in a powerful but loving merciful God, knowing we humans and our imperfections, yet seeing into our hearts and knowing that part of the soul worthy of redemption. How I wish we would someday be together again, in finality, forever and ever amen. How I wish I could believe. Sadly, wishing is just that, my friends. There is no realm in the clouds. The clouds are just high altitude fog anyway. Beyond that heavenly blue is the darkness of outer space. Our little planet is at the center of nothing. The darkness goes on and on and on, as infinite as the god we created. We can see for distances we can't even comprehend, over vast space and deep time we can barely wrap our minds around. There was no need to smite the tower of babel, was there? I don't think that tower could have ever reached heaven. Hell, we have rocket ships now and we still can't reach it! We can't reach it because it does not exist. As John Lennon sang, "No Hell Below Us, Above us, only sky." Imagine what is already real and true. No streets of gold. No soft cloud beds to rest in. No angels to bear me up. No god to save me. Only oblivion is real. Only Oblivia is waiting for me, My Dear Sweet Goddess, and her loving embrace. She is the only hope of salvation I have left. She will rescue me someday. Please don't be slow, my angel. How does one picture absolutely nothing at all? I wonder. I guess it is like trying to remember my personal experiences of any year before I was born. There were none. As for me, there was nothing before. As for me, there will be nothing after. Oblivion, Oblivia, merciful goddess of amnesia. Save me, please save me. I need peace. I need rest. I need forever. Just as there was silence before the mid 70's, that silence shall descend again. Eternity awaits me. I await eternity. I am ready for the peace of nothingness. Sometimes, the only way to win is to quit the game and never play again. If I can't find the love and belonging I need to survive, I will refuse to suffer in silence. I declare myself at this very moment, Cosmic Wie, High Priest Of The Church Of The Merciful Oblivia. Let us bow in prayer and praise to this beautiful Goddess Of Mercy, for she not only forgives us our sins, but she helps us to forget them entirely. Oblivia restores us to innocence in a way no other deity could ever hope to. Oh, Merciful Goddess of Amnesia, I pray thee not be long in my salvation. I await deliverance with an open heart and open arms. Please take me in those loving arms to that peaceful valley where I can again be free, where I can again find peace.