I managed to have a stressful dream, which means I’m finally getting back to my normal depressed self. I want to apologize to any readers who felt disappointed in my momentary lapse into joy. I don’t know what came over me, but thankfully, it’s over.
I woke up this morning feeling like a total failure. And this is because I have a very lofty definition of success. Here it is:
Success = Being worshipped as a God.
So you can understand my disappointment. I am really falling short on this one.
When I make a mistake, I get angry with myself and defensive towards others. It’s because I value myself by what I achieve, not by who I am. Towards the end of his life, there was a period of time where my grandfather could barely speak. I remember sitting with him, and he was looking at me. He laughed and shrugged. The essence of him was still there, even though his mind and his memories were slipping away. That essence was, for lack of a better word, humor. And what is humor if not the ability to step outside of one’s own existence and see how overpriced it is. Perhaps, by stepping outside of one’s self, one is actually stepping inside something larger than one’s self. And no one ever disappears because everyone is part of this.
All that’s fine and dandy, but I still want a damned sitcom.