In April, we had days that reached the low 80's (Fahrenheit), already. It was nice to live in houses that had central heating and AC, but now I'm stuck in this poorly insulated cave that was built back when some of the veterans of World War 1 were just born. We'd turn the old box air conditioners on in the afternoon or evening, but we'd have to make sure to remember not to leave them on overnight, otherwise the house would be an icebox by morning. Either way, the mornings are damn cold, and I've been turning the space heaters on first thing in the morning on an almost daily basis. Especially now. This spring has been very stormy, and we just had a couple of enormous ones in a row quite recently, which means cold fronts, so now we're expected to see high temperatures between 50 and 70 with lows mostly in the 40's, possibly dipping almost to freezing point the whole week ahead. When I got up this morning, it was 62 degrees in the house. My face felt noticeably colder than the rest of my body when I woke up, it was just like wintertime again. I didn't hesitate to kick those space heaters on as soon as I got up. We haven't been able to use our propane furnace because, according to my dad who's sort of paranoid about things like house fires and, in this case, propane leakage (it's lethal to breathe in large amounts), the furnace is "acting up again," in his words.

It seems to be an early-to-mid spring thing, every year.

Last night, I had a thought which I find sort of odd that it hasn't really come up earlier on. It's both simple, and quite illustrative. It's the fact that I'm not really hampered by what I don't think I can achieve. I've posted a lot about how I'm always bouncing back and forth between feeling constructive and feeling like death is the only reasonable solution. Well, I do have fluctuations in my perspective of my own capabilities, but it's really the product of willingness. Everything happens for a reason, no effect ever occurs without a cause, and as such, if I don't *want* to live, then I'm not going anywhere.

When I feel semi-positive (which is about as far as I ever go in that direction), it's enticing to imagine myself ignoring self-doubt and overcoming my problems. I *want* to be happy. When the absolutely inevitable descent back into anguish and despair comes again, happiness means nothing to me. The motive is gone. I don't *want* to change.

It was less than an hour ago, I was lying in bed, mind plagued by a ferocious storm of all the lovely thoughts that bring me all the great forms of misery. Much of it is just the world itself... or more specifically, the human condition. I don't know why, but I just feel so "in-tune" with the bitterness of it. Maybe it's just one of those random fascinations we all have..... one that I certainly find counter-intuitively distressing.

I've blogged much less frequently here for quite awhile, and the main reason is basically because I've been doing the same thing elsewhere. Of course, for privacy purposes, I won't be mentioning where. But I do feel like mentioning that I've been in contact with someone on a regular basis since around new year's time. I submitted a post, once, about how I was in contact with someone online who I could consider a friend, and the only one. Well, I think it's safe to say that that's happened again. It's someone from a different country, who's about the same age as me, a bit less than a year older. She's this profoundly generous person, maybe a little too generous at times. I tend to feel obligated to return the favor equally, which can be sort of a.... task, so to speak, depending on how my mood is at a given time.... and I do that even though she's told me various times that I shouldn't feel that I have to. But, it's not like it's not worth it or anything, she's probably the most supportive and well-meaning person I've ever spoke to.

About the first paragraph.... there was a moment where I just felt really okay with death. And I kind of still do, right now. It's not making me anxious to think about it, it's just coming to me as "if it has to happen, then I'll just let it be the way it is." But now I know that I'd be leaving someone behind, someone who's told me more than once that she'd be emotionally damaged if I was to disappear. And, likewise, I know how I would feel if she disappeared.

I'm...... kind of not doing well right now.

I'll never be okay with this.

Most of the time, I think nothing of success; success in life, in it's broadest sense. It means nothing to me. For one, let's consider the odds..... few people ever achieve a state that can truly be considered "successful." Even those who are successful in terms of wealth and prosperity, peoples' problems arise from the very beginning, and so rarely do they reach their demise free of unresolved issues. So, if we take a look at that few who ever achieve true success, how many of them were anything like me at any point? What portion of the victorious - a slim margin of the population as it is - lived the first pair of decades of their life struggling with issues no easier than mine? .......... So, that basically summarizes the odds of me becoming an accomplished person, truly, purely, authentically "accomplished."

"But that's self-doubt, and self-doubt is your enemy. You should never give up, no matter how hopeless things look." ---- Oh, you think so?

I often consider the overwhelming possibility of all this misery continuing without end for so many years. There is absolutely no guarantee that if I live to be 80 (please, do NOT let me live that long), things won't be so bad, as they are now. If all that lies ahead is more of this, more of the same agony, then will I look back in my final days and say "this was worth fighting for"? Of course not! It wouldn't be worth it unless all this weight on my shoulders - eventually, at some time or another - relented. Or..... would it? Let's not forget what we are, as mankind..... we are one step away from inanimate objects, and that step is sentience. We're animate objects, basically. Just remove the "in." When we're laid to eternal rest beneath six feet of dirt, nothing matters anymore because we're no longer here for anything to matter. Write a story, then crumble it up and toss it in the fire, it becomes nothing.