One Day it will End

Tomorrow is a new day. Will anything come of it though? Probably not. I yearn for a fix, a solution to this deep unsettling dread that comes with life. Each day like the last, the mundane toils working that nine to five, meandering through the door as mindless as a zombie. The little joys in life getting me through it. Forever wondering if this is it, was there ever any meaning after all?

Well, here it is, tomorrow the new day. That alarm blaring its horn into my soul, sending shivers down my spine. "Ya gotta wake up" it says, but do I really? Eternal sleep sounds delightful, but lively duties and responsibilities tell me otherwise. I roll out of bed, not happy, but not sad either. Rather empty, emotionless, an endless void of nothingness. I slap my clothes on, pack my lunch, and off to the nine to five I go. The coffee at work tastes a little bitter this morning. "Did someone use more than two scoops"?

Work usually goes the same as every day, I stare at the computer screen mindlessly being already caught up on all my reports. I have to work slow, otherwise I'll have nothing at all to do. Making thirty minutes worth of work look like two hours takes some skill you know? Every little bit counts whether it's decreasing my words per minute by twenty, to acting like my computer is being slow moving onto the next page. Maybe even scrolling endlessly through news stories about the worlds existential dread. Taking it slow and steady wins the race, although I'm not sure there was ever a race to begin with.

I often question how much of my life is wasted from sitting in traffic. That fifteen-minute commute back home turning into an hour, music the only thing keeping me company. Traffic backed up for miles, everyone fighting to get home to enjoy the rest of their day. Finally, the light turns green. I've been debating the whole drive thus far whether I felt like cooking or if take-out was the solution. Living alone, cooking every day for just myself adds another chore, and even more time out of the day. The six or so hours I have after work are valuable to me. It's the only time I have for myself that's not already taken or preoccupied. Take-out it is.

I have chores I need to do, sweep, mop, do laundry, but they can wait. I just need a little me time. Sorta why I'm writing this story right now as I speak. I need to be free for a bit, let myself soak in the nothingness, hoping I'll find that sliver of joy I need for the day. Some people say happiness is a choice, I'd rather disagree. Happiness is a virtue that some take for granted because for some like me, I feel like I'm pouring water into an already broken glass. The majority of such is sitting in a pool beneath me, while those little tears of what remains drip and drip and drip.

I eye the clock, counting down the precious time to myself I have left. Anxiety tensing my stomach up as I realize it's getting late. Time moving so fast when you're finally enjoying it. (Sigh) I guess that's why my childhood flew by, now I'm an adult left pondering on where it all went. I think I actually had joy as a kid. An unconditional happiness? No stresses in life, making sure I have enough money to pay my bills, or wondering what my next meal will be. I had an imagination, some game to play, and a sight to see. I often complained about school, but at least I had friends. Now I just have acquaintances, whom I mostly dislike. That little kid in me I feel is dying, gasping for air while life's grip gets tighter.

My diagnosis with ADHD came with no surprise. All those years of depression and anxiety, and that emptiness with a little fear mixed in made more sense. Between smoking weed, and drinking in-between I'm forever chasing that lovely dopamine. Never feeling fulfilled and jumping from one thing to the next. It's sort of a hopeless feeling knowing you have an actual disorder. Knowing that there's not much change available, besides the meds the pharmacists put on the table.

Dopamine being my drug means my life is full of impulsive decisions. Some I regret, some I don't. The one's I do regret though are tied in with deep shame I have for them. Forever learning to forgive myself, like I forgive others. ADHD is a curse. Life is already hard as it is, but now I feel the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. Mountains to climb and cliffs to fall off of. When my attention is peaked, I feel like a new man, when its low however life feels a little out of hand.

The highs are what keeps me going though, those little sparks coming out of a dead lighter, maybe one day those sparks will light a fire. I really miss that kid I used to be. I was so full of happiness, so full of glee. Now life just feels uneventful. I know in the grand scheme of things my life is inherently meaningless, yet I really can't say that I didn't hope there would be more. Am I meant to mindlessly zombie my life away? That question will forever linger in my mind. Who knows it might get answered by myself when I lie on deaths bed. My fate fully decided by myself, and my unmedicated head.

It's time to go to sleep now. After I take my bath of course. I'll wake up tomorrow and hopefully live to tell another tale. Although the tale will be much of the same, with life feeling like a drain. Those soapy suds from cleaning yesterday's dishes gurgling away. One day I will find my youthfulness again, and maybe I'll wake up ready to conquer. Until then though I'll live my life on survival mode, writing to folks like you, hoping it somewhat hits home. All of this to tell, there's a joy in life, that I've been missing per say. I hope that I find it, and if you relate, well I hope you find it too. :)

Cheers.