I created this blog back in 2016, at a time when I was away from social media, but still found the need to write something. Posts were far more erratic back then, with neither rhyme nor reason to them. Whereas now there is a sort of overarching theme to my texts, it wasn't so when I first began writing here. Eventually I came to abandon the blog, like so many of my previous blogs, and it was stuck in limbo for all this while.
Picking it up again gives me a chance to put to words some thought that swirl inside me without ever fully coalescing.
Case in point :
As I get older, I get increasingly more tired. Everything exhausts me, even the most minute task leaves me depleted. I know all the reasons why it can be attributed to - lack of exercise, wrong diet, not enough sleep, and when I do sleep, not enough rest, etc.
I know all this.
But it's also deepened a certain malaise of the spirit I've long carried. As a child, I was quite prone to sudden fits of melancholia, and I'd turn inward and languish in morose silence. My eighth birthday comes to mind, and I've no idea still why this happened thus, but that day that ought to be filled with laughter and joy was a mirthless day for me. In some ways I guess this was the first year I noticed I was aging, I'd stopped being seven, and was now eight - a gap that to me seemed infinite. It stood to reason that everybody else aged too, and one day they'd age too much and die. I still cared deeply for my family back then, and these thoughts brought me nothing but pain.
I am remembering now the last time I went to Switzerland - I'm sorry, Hugo, I did mean to visit you this year, but it's looking increasingly like it'll be next year - and that was 2012. That was an odd year for me, a year where I finally overcame the mourning of the love I carried within me for the previous six years, and the outcome of that was meeting the person with whom I would have a relationship that would ultimately shatter me. Funny thing is, in between these loves there was an old flame of mine who, out of nowhere, developed an interest in me, and we spent a few months in a courtship dance. Trouble is, she lived in Zurich. As time went by, I decided to go and be with her, she'd asked me to go spend a few days there with her, and I said yes.
What happened is that a few days before my flight she got cold feet and decided that the timing wasn't right. That's fair, I guess. Who am I to judge?
Anyways, I still had a flight to Switzerland booked, and instead of going to Zurich, I stayed in Nyon with Hugo.
I don't really recall much about those days spent there other than an Alien marathon, probably some playstation, me figuring out that beer + Schokokuss made for an incredible meal - consequences be damned, and something Hugo said to me that left me in shock : 'In fifteen years time we'll be fifty years old'.
That's a really good way to stop for a moment and think. And I did.
During my days there, I was texting this girl I met just before going to Switzerland, and I thought that there was a friendship growing between us. We'd actually gone for a walk on the day before my flight, and it was quite pleasant, but I had a friend of mine who was really into her, and I did not ever want to come between them.
But that good, long walk we took did start something. All those texts between us during those days created a need in us - the need to be together again, if only to see where things could go. I still remember meeting her at the library where she was studying for her master's degree, and how effusive and heartwarming her embrace was. My love began at that very moment.
No details need be put forth; maybe in another story I'll touch upon this matter. But I lived for months under the strict impression that what we were having was real. That the plans we were making would come to be. I believed. And one day it all came tumbling down, she said it had all been a mistake on her part.
In May 2013 I was going into a week where I could see my future clearly. I'd have what I'd dreamed about, I'd be happy, finally happy, and however crappy my job was, I could always get another, maybe a better one.
One week - one week is all it took for me to crumble. First, all the heartache surrounding the breakup. Then I lose my job. All in a matter of days.
I began falling to pieces.
In the coming year, I would be under a deep depression that left me medicated, often confined to my room, feeling sorry for myself, broke, broken. Only in May 2014 would I start building myself up again.
But it never happened. What did happen is that I'd continue on this streak where not only everything outside work kept going wrong, but also I'd come to develop an aptitude for self destruction. I tried. God knows I tried. In late summer 2016 I was actually feeling energized and ready for a big change, and up to January 2017 I was feeling the best I'd felt in years.
Then my body played a trick on me, my right leg started to give in on me everytime I went for a run. Somehow, I'd managed to pull a muscle thingy and actually damage a bit of my bone. That was when I started to really give up on everything.
My last message on the original iteration of this blog was posted on March 15th 2017 and it read : 'I'm destroying myself'.
Over three years and I'm still destroying myself, I can't, I can't, I can't not do it.
Even when my body sends me warnings, even when I retch my insides out, even when this pounding headache I have keeps me from getting any sleep, even when I find myself unable to stomach the voice of another human being... I choose destruction.
I want to change.
I want this to end.
But I'm tired.
I'm tired of the pain I feel in my heart.
I'm tired of what this pain has fucking done to me.
I'm
so
tired.
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