The Pattern

I'm troubled at the moment. A life full of monotony and exquisite loneliness awaits unless I do something quickly. Naturally, this blog entry comes at an impossible time of the morning, given I am waiting to go to what will certainly be 8 hours waiting to end. A week full of sadness, memories and consideration has barely begun and already I am feeling the pain.

I have just watched a film. 'Notes on a Scandal'. The story of a young teacher who gets drawn into an affair with a student while a veteran gets drawn in to the situation. Seemingly, the moral of the story? No one ends up happy. Content even. People will do anything for events. Judi Dench was exceptional in this and it seriously triggers thoughts of what your life will hold for you. Even if the events are far from what is happening in your own. Of course, I know what will happen. At the moment, I lie in this rather warm and stuffy room, while everyone else is asleep, as normal people should be. Waiting to start the monotony of the monotonous work. Tears rolling down my cheek impossibly, mourning.

My sister returned home from her adventure earlier. I didn't hear her come in but I was strictly awoken by the sound of tears upon tears not soon after. The unequivocal sound of mourning in action. I couldn't help but wipe my own tears from my eyes, but something stopped me from joining them. The thought that I don't belong in normal life. The young man who works when everyone sleeps and sleeps when everyone works. The impossible life. A life full of loneliness.

I'm going to be candid and honest here. For once. I am lonely. I feel like everyone I love and cherish and hold friendship with are going away. Ready to move on with life and prepare themselves for the torture that will always be adult life. I don't blame them. I would, if I could. But I can't. I don't know why, but I feel I don't belong in a place where people advance. I don't belong here where people are stuck in the mire. I don't belong anywhere.

The potential that people talk about is stuck. Stuck somewhere between my heart and my head and I don't know where to go. I don't know where to go, or what to do, or who to turn to. Friends are doing their own thing, too bothered about organisation and waiting in anticipation to start their new lives. I am scared to say, but I will, that I have never trusted my family to speak words of comfort. My Father cuts a figure of "a man doesn't cry" and my Mum worries too much. My sister has a modicum of sense and she is the family member I can rely on at least a little. But she is never home. She is doing what I am not. Realising her potential.

More honesty. I no longer have dreams of stardom or success. I firmly believe I am destined for the most average of average lives, living day by day without excitement, love or passion for anything. Even now, at an age where you're supposedly supposed to be enjoying life, I secretly can't. The question that burns me is "Why don't I do something about it?".

I pause... The honest answer? I don't know. I don't have the bottle to I guess, or I don't have the ambition. The questions burns so much. I want an answer, I NEED an answer. I try so hard not to return to the Dark Days, I try so very, very hard. I try not to clog people down with my troubles, I'm sure they have their own troubles to deal with. Maybe that's my trouble. I try not to create sadness around me. People ask if I feel OK every now and then and I lie and say I'm fine. Deep down. Deep, deep down, I'm not. I'm scared. I'm so very scared. The honest answer. Ask me if I'm OK, do it when you next speak to me, and you will know if I'm lying. If I'm "not bad" or "ok", then I lie. Because I am far from it.