Awkward Metamorphosis.

I am depressed. Need to write it down, read it back, see in writing what I feel. But what does it mean? Is it constant? Can’t be. Regular enough? I’d say so.

How does one cope with being alone? Because I am, aren’t I. Partner, child, friends and family. They are all there but none of them have been where I have been. I was on top of the world, flying, I reached the top. Imagine that, setting out in an industry and reaching the top. It’s not supposed to happen, is it. Certainly not by the age of 27. And let’s face it, I was there years before then. Famous, admired, successful. I could still be on that ride if it wasn’t for what I assume is self-preservation, common sense? It wasn’t real life, I mean, it was, it was quite literally my life, but to keep it alive you had to ignore the screen between you and the rest of the world. The difference. In no way real but without doubt there.

I had to step away. And now this. Domestic, mundane, normal. It would be hard enough to get on board with, even without having toured the world and seen it all. Threshold for stimulation stretched to breaking point, now try scratching that itch. No wonder so many lose it. No wonder, for the most part, they keep the party going. Because what is the alternative? Well, this. Tormented, distracted, unsatisfied with what is quite obviously, enough. More than.

Purpose. That’s what’s needed. For all of us. And let’s say, for arguments sake, this is a period of transition, which I have no doubt that it is. One day, when this awkward metamorphosis has run its course, I’ll look back on these years and see them as necessary, cleansing, the ultimately noble slog of becoming. Noble and utterly boring. That’s the truth of it all, it’s boring, I am boring, you are boring, and that in itself is fine, it’s just the having seen the other side that makes it a bitter pill to swallow.

I know what it is to be fully committed to a project. To give yourself over to the cause. To live and breathe, to embody the project. And that, for now, has gone. And so, a hole is felt. Emptiness perceived.