I find myself at a loss now. Where as before the future seemed bright and full of amazing possibilities, all of them equally appealing, now the future seems bleak, cold and uninviting. Not that I haven’t dealt with such before, much of my life has been spent in that condition. Ever since that crushing day when I realized that I was not going to be a ghostbuster when I grew up, the future has been this foreboding wasteland of unpleasantness. Every so often, glimmers of hope would transform that landscape into something beautiful and full of promise, but all too soon the sun would once again be obscured by the clouds of reality.
This recent strecth was definitely the longest stint of hopefullness since the ghostbusters fall of ’89. I know that sounds amusing or dramatic, but it’s really true. For about 8 months there I was really excited about all of the possibilities that lay ahead. We had so many ideas and potential plans for what we could do, where we could go, everything. All of it was awesome. I didn’t even care which option we ended up following, they were all very appealing.
And now it’s back to bleak. No plans, big or small, to look forward to. No one to make those plans with. And no idea why. That’s the real hell of it. Just suddenly gone. It’s depressing. If the best 8 months of my life were worth so little that they could be discarded out of hand without explanation, then what does that say about what my current life is worth? What does that say about me?
Welcome to the pity party, here’s a hat and a goodie bag. There’s punch over there.