It All Begins With A Song

I get very frustrated with myself because I can never quite shake off the cloak of nihilism that wraps itself around me more frequently than I would like it to. At times it feels like it has been grafted on to me.

If the sound of the above has you wondering what narcotics I must be taking to think such a thing, I cannot easily describe, in words, how envious I am of you. I can’t help but blame lockdown, why not, it gets the blame for everything else, but in my case I’m blaming it for giving me way too much time with my own thoughts.

Each day, as I hurtle towards my demise, I spend 10-20 minutes, often longer, wondering about the point of it all, or rather the lack of one. Why are we working, many of us in jobs we would rather not do? What makes us go on, even when, especially when, we see no useful purpose in us existing?

As a single person I frequently try and imagine why, if I were in a couple and decided to have children, why I would decide to do such a thing, given the state of the world  and where it, and we, the human race are heading.  Of course I consider reasons to justify having them; when I was a teenager I imagined I would have children by the time I was thirty, by the time I was forty I had resigned myself to adoption, now?

Something else that frustrates me, about myself, is when I am at home and sitting, perhaps listening to music, or taking a break from idily refreshing Twitter or Instagram; as I look around at the stuff I have accummulated my over-riding thoughts always steer towards planning to get things in some sort of order so that when I die, whoever has to deal with things can find all the important bits of paperwork.

If you know me, you know how I love to procrastinate but also organise things, so this stuff can really take up hours a days. Usually ending with me spending about an hour looking for where I can get a proper will drawn up, as opposed to one of those fill in the blank forms from the internet.

Then again, am I destined to be one of those unfortunate bastards who lives beyond 100? It feels like it would be just my kind of luck. Which given my afrorementioned procrastination issues, at least gives me time to get orgainised.

Leave A Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.