Depression

I feel the need to express myself. I don't understand why blogging it feels so important: I could just write in a text document and be done with it. In addition, this is a blog nobody reads: it's not advertised, and even the ones that are mainly go unread. Lastly, this is a subject I don't want in public view for the sake of controlling my self image. I want only positive things expressed where others can see them. But I want to express these things to others at the same time. I don't understand it.

I am sad. Like any of my moods, I have no true, direct reason for it. Whether I'm happy or sad, I always have good or bad that happens in my life that I can assign as reasons for my mood, but the reality is that my moods just seem to happen. The reasoning comes after.

So if I could take the factors of my life and attribute reasons for my sadness, they would be this:

I live in a world filled to the brim with imbeciles. I'm surrounded by them, They dictate how things work. I've re-entered the workforce, and by doing so I have immersed myself into the thickest mire of morons to be found in the world. People who work for other people are by their very nature retarded automatons, and here I am among them as a means to my survival. I wasn't made to work for others. I can't do my life like everyone else. I can't take the orders of those who have no clue what the hell they're doing. I can't serve. I can't not think for myself.

I would rather appear positive and loving, and so that's how I present myself to the world. I publicly take on the position that we are all the same and everybody should be loved. The fact remains that everybody is acting at their best, and their best is a pathetic attempt at existence. I will remain outwardly positive nonetheless.

Add to this that I am alone. My wife left the marriage for no good reason that she can express or even provide the solution to. I was alone long before that: Her drug induced depression wedged between us for years. I saw it coming from the beginning, but I developed that relationship regardless, so It's my own fault for becoming so involved with such a dead-end woman.

Looking back at my life, it's not that I missed opportunities to be with better women; there were none better that presented themselves. They are all broken in some way. My loneliness now grows out of this fact: that there may never be a woman who can meet the requirements to occupy that space at the center of my heart. Certainly there isn't right now. At the age of 35, my opportunity to find such a woman, take the time to recognize that she is in fact that woman, and develop a relationship and family with that woman, is running out of time. I may have to put away the notion that I might one day have children because that one day is slipping away.

I'm not going to dive into the next relationship just to produce offspring. I told you already that, unlike everybody else in the world, I am capable of thought. There must be that one, special woman in the world to assist me with that. Having never met such a girl in this world, I have a hard time believing one exists.

I wonder if there can possibly be any other person in the world capable of thought, rather that merely aping the actions of those that programmed you?