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Tuesday, 24. March 2015
No escape from reality
ell, 19:33h
Before you read on, don't worry! (Or rather don't panic?)
As far as I know I am not depressed and still very far from suicidal or anything along those lines. I've only had a pretty shitty time this month, although, as you might remember, my birthday was somewhere in that month too.
It's like every time I think, well, you got over that crisis, and everything's going to be OK again from now on, something else is crashing in on me.
To start with, today was my aunts funeral, which had gotten to me much more than I ever thought I would. Although I hope that my funeral (hopefully at some very distant day) will be quite different, I had to try very hard not to cry, mostly because I didn't have any cleenex with me.
Afterwards I had managed to pull myself up enough that I thought I'd make it through the rest of the day, when on the drive back home, the car radio switched on just in time for the news, which told us that another aircraft had crashed, a german one, and this time in the french alpes. There had been 150 people on that plane, 67 of which were Germans, 16 students, 2 teachers and 2 very little children, of which most likely non had survived.
And since then I can't keep myself from thinking: "What if I had been on that plane?"
It's pretty illogical, because I've only been on a plane twice, to Ireland and back. Also I don't plan to take a flight in the near future, especially not to Barcelona, but still, the thoughts are there. And they don't seem to go away.
The usual trick of hiding in one of my books, or movies, or any other fictional reality has stopped working long ago already. I feel like I want to run, but something keeps my feet on the ground, always pulling me back to reality. I'd literally like to run. Just go outside for an hour and run or walk or bike or climb, but that only works in the forest or open fields and there's only more city nearby.
Overall I feel like the personal chew-toy of some very sadistic canine deity. And I belive I'm not alone with that.
By now I believe how Terry Pratchet and Douglas Addams got their ideas. After all it sounds like something they would have come up with:
Humanity as a chew-toy for a giant, drooling dog, god of the universe.
As far as I know I am not depressed and still very far from suicidal or anything along those lines. I've only had a pretty shitty time this month, although, as you might remember, my birthday was somewhere in that month too.
It's like every time I think, well, you got over that crisis, and everything's going to be OK again from now on, something else is crashing in on me.
To start with, today was my aunts funeral, which had gotten to me much more than I ever thought I would. Although I hope that my funeral (hopefully at some very distant day) will be quite different, I had to try very hard not to cry, mostly because I didn't have any cleenex with me.
Afterwards I had managed to pull myself up enough that I thought I'd make it through the rest of the day, when on the drive back home, the car radio switched on just in time for the news, which told us that another aircraft had crashed, a german one, and this time in the french alpes. There had been 150 people on that plane, 67 of which were Germans, 16 students, 2 teachers and 2 very little children, of which most likely non had survived.
And since then I can't keep myself from thinking: "What if I had been on that plane?"
It's pretty illogical, because I've only been on a plane twice, to Ireland and back. Also I don't plan to take a flight in the near future, especially not to Barcelona, but still, the thoughts are there. And they don't seem to go away.
The usual trick of hiding in one of my books, or movies, or any other fictional reality has stopped working long ago already. I feel like I want to run, but something keeps my feet on the ground, always pulling me back to reality. I'd literally like to run. Just go outside for an hour and run or walk or bike or climb, but that only works in the forest or open fields and there's only more city nearby.
Overall I feel like the personal chew-toy of some very sadistic canine deity. And I belive I'm not alone with that.
By now I believe how Terry Pratchet and Douglas Addams got their ideas. After all it sounds like something they would have come up with:
Humanity as a chew-toy for a giant, drooling dog, god of the universe.
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