Loopy, Lonely and Lost

New Year Blues

Posted on: January 1, 2013

Something must change.

I don’t know what, and I don’t know how.

I’m a bit hungover, so I’m aware that the superficial tinge of sadness is mostly chemical – it happens whenever I drink, these days. I spent last night getting stupidly drunk with someone who knows me uncomfortably well. A friend who looks at me unflinchingly and sees an awful lot of truth, who bombards me with recommendations for books and films, always with “there’s this character who just is you” – who inevitably turns out to be wittier and more intelligent than I would ever claim to be, but also sadder and lonelier than I could ever admit. In some ways, it’s comforting, to be known so well, to have someone who sees that I’m not an automaton, and that I have feelings. Our friendship is like an anchor. But it’s also a little bit frightening, because I’m worried that I’ve found someone I can’t lie to about being okay when I’m not.

But whatever effect the alcohol has had on my mood, the facts don’t change. I’m doing nothing with my life. Just grinding out year after year, piling them all up, waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Death seems like an overly simplistic answer. It’s not that I want to die, especially – it’s just that this isn’t really my idea of living.

I’m paralysed by fear that anything I do now can only result in a negative. I’m terrified that this is the best it gets. Because I’ve been okay, haven’t I? More stable, more in control, getting stuff done. It’s just that everything has become so grey and pointless. I get up in the morning and go to work and try my best and act sociable because all of these things are expected of me, and to not do them would result in hassle, I’d have to explain why, and it’s just easier in the long run to try to blend in. But whatever part of me there used to be that found enjoyment in things has withered to almost nothing.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m alone. Hiding in my room, avoiding my family who are downstairs. It’s probably for the best – like I said, drinking doesn’t really have a good effect on me lately, and I’m always a bit miserable at New Year – I know it’s just another day, but it feels like a milestone, a landmark, it’s like a solid thing, another year to add to my collection.

I feel old. I know I’m only 24, realistically I’m still quite young, but I feel so tired and jaded. I feel stuck.

I feel like all I have to look forward to is mediocrity. I know I should be able to make a change, inject some meaning into my life, but I guess the problem is that I don’t know what meaning I’m looking for. What meaning could there be? I think that if you can foresee a solution to your problems, a thing that could happen that would make things better, then that would be, relatively speaking, easy to achieve. I’d love to be able to say, “this time next year, I will have done a, b and c”, and know that if I can do that I’ll be happy. But I can’t see it, I can’t see where my path is, or how to get to anything resembling a happy life.

But it’s not about making a New Year’s resolution. It’s not about finding the courage to do something I know I need to do. I am more lost than that. I am bored, but scared of change. I am lonely, but scared of anyone getting too close. I am trapped, but scared to leave.

I can afford to move out. I could get a place of my own. But I’m too fucking scared. Because living with my paranoid, interfering, miserable mother, who knows me probably less than anyone I’ve ever met, is at least something I understand, and I know (however hard it is) that I can cope with it, because I’m coping with it now.  The thought of living with anyone other than my family gives me panic attacks: I’d be too scared all the time, and never feel able to be myself. Sometimes I think of living alone and I think it might work, I think the peace and quiet might work in my favour – but I think if I lived alone I’d fall apart. With nobody to enforce routine or normality, I’d slip off the radar, stop sleeping and eating properly, stop speaking to anyone, and probably kill myself within a few months.

So I’m stuck here, although I hate it. And stuck in my job, which I don’t hate as such, but which doesn’t move or inspire me. But what’s the point in getting another job? It’d always be exactly the same. I don’t have a calling, I don’t have a vocation. I don’t have anything to aim for. How easy life must be for people who know what they want.

I just feel really useless, and my life feels pointless. I’m not doing anything, just wasting time until I waste away. And when I do die, one way or another, no-one will have anything to say about me. I’ll melt into history like I melt into the present, unnoticed and unimportant. It’s not that I want to rule the world. I just want to feel like I have, in some way, made a difference. Like there’s someone in the world who is better off because I’m in the world too.

The fireworks go off and everywhere people are celebrating the passage of time. I feel so separate. I’m forgetting the lies I told myself to keep myself going to this point.

I fucking hate New Year. All I can think about are endings.


1 Response to "New Year Blues"

I know how you feel about feeling old…I am 24 years old this year and feel like I am wasting my life. I hope you cheer up lovely one and make this year a happy one 🙂 xx

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My name is Laura. I was once told that I have cyclothymia. This blog is mostly where I write about living as a person with extremes and instability of mood, and the history of a life that led to the development of those symptoms.

I complain a lot, I'm very repetitive, unreliable, and I tend to contradict myself.

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