I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately, so I haven’t writing too much. I haven’t been doing much of anything lately; my job is indefinitely postponed, I’m worried that if I go outside, I’ll kill my whole family, I feel like a real-life Peter Pan, and I don’t know what to do about any of it.
There’s just so much sadness in the world right now, I can see it in the air the rare times that I go outside. People are scared, uncertain of what the future holds, and angry that it’s gotten to this point. I’ve had to fight for those fleeting milliseconds of happiness, but now, after every attempt to make life tolerable, I’ve come to the conclusion that it just isn’t enough.
So many people I talk to say that happiness is a feeling, something that you can’t control. I think that’s bullshit. I keep a note in my phone of everything that makes me happy, and every time I feel empty and numb, I look at that list and try to imagine the things that make me happy. It’s not a complex list, there are things like “filling your gas tank all the way up” or “finding new music” that don’t take much to achieve, but still briefly help me feel like a real person for a moment or two, and that’s so important these days.
I’m the last person you should listen to for advice, but in this one instance, I think I’m on to something. Try it out: list the things that make you happy, and whenever you feel worthless and devoid of feeling, check that list out, it might help, it might not; I don’t know, I’m not a fucking psychologist.