Sometimes, I wonder how happy I am....I live comfortably, I have many friends, yet still I long for something; the abstract ,
Je ne sais quoi. Still my life seems empty, and this longing for a one fuller, I suppose, keeps me up at night. So now I write, in my
sleep deprived state, to try to
articulate my thoughts, to fix the problem. I need something to cure this empty depression: Any
extreme register of emotional sensation, perhaps? or maybe just a problem to solve?
I feel like this bout of depression is brought on by a loss of idealism, or a realisation of the inexistance of such, or merely the lack of sensation...
I live sheltered by my own construction. The sensations I experience are limited to a small spectrum, I feel no love, no remorse, no euphoria, no angst, only something in between and untill now, its leaned on towards abstract happiness, but now its tipped over onto mild depression.
Still, I will be on the happy side soon, it requires but a little reasoning, and maybe some childlike play in the snow.
Borrowing from Freud's construct of the psyche, Fuck my Superego!