While it may be tempting to precede this post with “You know those days where you feel utterly drained, lonely, and sad, for no reason?”, I have to realise that, of course you do.
Everyone falls prey to these qualities, and no one could feasibly claim to be exempt. Conversely, no soul could expect to be treated as some ’special-snowflake’ exception for feeling as such; or should claim that their own case of feeling outweighs that of another’s, as though bound by some awfully morbid chains of emotional competition. 


I’ve been hit with a great, whopping dose of the ol’ ‘drained-lonely-sad’ spectrum today but, curiously, aspects of it have been rather welcome. Even more curiously, I can’t seem to be able to fully discern or put my finger on WHY I’ve not seen fit to decry a day such as today as being wholly terrible. A small, shameful part of me now assumes that I slightly enjoy wallowing in my own sadness (either that, or old bouts of a depressive nature have merely left me falling in line with habitual wallowing behaviour). A larger part of me just assumes (and always has done, rightfully) that I am one of those people whom, every now and again, simply NEEDS a day of complete solitude.

Á la today. Firstly, I rebutted an offer to go out and spend time with my love (whom is adorably persistent in seeing me, and normally wins through my foulest of moods), and postponed our time until tomorrow, simply because the desire to be alone was so strong when I awoke that I knew I would be awful company during whatever time we spent together. Sure enough, subsequently, apart from indulging in the obvious base need of Maslow’s Hierarchy to bathe and nourish oneself, the entirety of my day has been spent in perfect solitude. I decided to note down a list of menial plans for the evening, in a forward-thinking effort to self-administer a bit of a ‘pick me up’ (in reality, more of a ‘man the fuck up’ boot up the arse), and so as not to waste a whole day, but the apathy stemming from the ‘drained’ aspect of that aforementioned spectrum didn’t quite agree to this.
So, in the real nature of things, I forewent the promise of a nice evening spent in company and love, choosing instead to spent my time entirely alone, and doing near-literally nothing (which has prompted me to realise how wasted and futile a lot of my life so far has been but, again, I expect almost everyone can express such a sentiment without an air of exclusivity).
Again, the truly curious thing? I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d tried. I’m a lifeless robot on auto-pilot today, and, to echo an earlier assertion, I’ve enjoyed the melancholy catharsis of it all (to admit as much feels as though admitting a filthy secret).  
“And so, being young and dipped in folly,
I fell in love with melancholy”…

The only other saving grace I can find about all of this, is that I haven’t felt nearly close to sad, lonely, and worthless for a good few months now. I genuinely think the near-two months of hardcore work (i.e. working very nearly everyday, sometimes for up to 16 hours) I did over the Christmas period is to thank for this. A lessened sense of anxiety, a heightened sense of feeling worthwhile, a fixed routine, and the joy of a busy lifestyle. These are the things I want most in life, and these are the things which working very hard afforded me for a fleeting few weeks.
I am DETERMINED to make something of myself in this respect in 2012. I may possess the (ir)rationality to find positive within the scope of melancholy, but I’ve had my fill of it all for quite some time.

Also, I think I DESPERATELY need a feline companion. :P

/first personal musing of the year.