I've seen my share of ups and downs this pair of months since I've mentioned a word. I've come to realize, now more than ever, that I will never truly defeat this beast; only run far enough ahead of the monstrous canine to catch my breath for a brief respite.
A metaphor that keeps cropping in my mind involves Crash Bandicoot, an old PlayStation mascot. Crash, our unlikely protagonist, finds himself fleeing from a giant boulder of crushing death. The unique gameplay in this level (at least at the time) includes Crash running towards the camera, moving closer to the player. The gamer doesn't see what obstacle he has to avoid or pit to circumvent until seconds before it appears. The focus is always on the looming deathball rolling ever more rapidly in your direction.
This is what I've succumbed to. I can't see what's in front of me. I don't know where I'm going. I don't even want to write about it anymore. These words ring with nothing but yawn-inducing boredom to me; it's becoming a struggle to make myself believe I don't come across as a distracted youth making fart noises.
That's the thing about this disease. I steals my confidence, my drive, my motivations. It robs me of my convictions and persuades me to give in to stagnation.
Stop moving and I stagnate.
If I stop running I'll get my innards squished out by the spherical hazard, but I'm becoming increasingly tired of holding down my left analog stick, so to speak. I realize that the only way to get back the guy in the mirror that I can stomach looking at is to continue to move forward, even though the vast majority of myself is yelling for the white flag. It's not worth it. Why try so hard? You're better off just sitting in stagnation, in this mind's mire you've been cursed to inhabit. Why waste energy if you'll never make it to firm ground.
...there's the catch though. I know there are dry islands in this muck. There are places where I can wring out my socks and make heads or tails of this "life" thing. However, I can't stay at these places forever. I have to jump back in to the mud and move forward again, away from this monster of a boulder, or boulder of a monster, whatever it is. I know this, I just don't want to put in the effort.
Procrastinating the end of my own stagnation.
I could list all the ways in which I've fallen off the wagon lately, all the progress I've made and then subsiquently lost. This serves no purpose to repeat. Mistakes were made. Mistakes will be made. I believe the only thing I can do, the only thing anyone suffering this disease can do, is to continue to get your socks wet.
Hypocritically, I currently dwell on my mistakes. I currently wade in my self manufactured sludge of lethargy. Realize that I know this is no way to live or even exist. There comes a time soon where I need to get over myself and move forward. It's either that or we just decide to give up entirely.
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