Forget About It (Or "The Speech" If You Want)

Just forget about it. They won’t have my ass, they won’t.

Who are they? They are the mob in my head telling me that I’m a worthless piece of shit who shouldn’t bother getting up in the morning.

Here is a good old clich√© for you: Life goes up and it goes down, that’s just the way it is. When things start going better you always get a slap in the face, and when the setback is a fact what do you do? Do you sit down an whine about it? Hell no. You just start again, until the next slap in the face, and you keep starting over again until you die. Because that’s life. It’s just a series of setbacks and failures and disappointments. There isn’t a human being who doesn’t experience life this way. What differs is the way we deal with those challenges.

I will never understand how someone as lucky as me can be so depressed. I have everything. It’s a disgrace. There is war, starvation and violence everywhere. There is absolutely no logic to it. It is shameful.

And then it stops. My argumentation stops. I don’t know what to say anymore. What is there to say? How long am I going to continue having this conversation with myself?

I feel weak who cannot change this current of self-abuse, self-loathing and depression. Am I not trying hard enough? No. I don’t take good enough care of myself. I don’t sleep well. I don’t do things I care about, I don’t meditate, I don’t write, I don’t sing. I just keep doing the same mistakes over and over and over again, letting my life be overflowed with office problems and stress.

Every time I tell myself that I should make an effort to change things I just feel tired and I can’t be bothered trying. I’m tired all the time. Tired and weak. There is no strength in there, neither in my body nor in my mind. I’m so sick of it all, sick of having to deal with myself and look at my face in the mirror every day and listen to my whining voice and listen to myself crying. Maybe I am a worthless piece of shit.

But no, I’m not. Or at least I’m trying to teach myself that I’m not. So every time I get a slap in the face, and I fall back into the old patterns, I get up again. I try to think positively, try to exercise, try to write, try to approach the piano, try to not get discouraged. I try and try and try and try.

I don’t give a shit about being famous or rich or a professional anything. I just care about making stuff, creating stuff. I was born this way, what do you want me to do? It’s my nature, even though I may lack the talent or the self-confidence of other people. What the fuck do you want me to do? If I don’t create stuff life has no meaning. That’s just the way it is.

The minute you stop trying you’re dead. Trying again and again and again is the only answer there is.

And then there is gratitude, being happy for everything which is working in your life. When we are  filled with gratitude and love, the world is so exceedingly beautiful.

There. I did it again. I gave myself the speech. Now I’m going to take a piss, make myself another tea, and enjoy the rest of my Saturday.

 

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