For reading, mostly

Recently several realizations that I made quite some time ago are beginning to insist that I deal with them, and as a result, I have been pushed out of the cyclical lifestyle that I held for so many years. The same repeating plotline with different characters that I put my hope in (and I did, even knowing that my situations would never work) is out. I don’t really know how much part my actions played as much as my inaction. If a basketball player were spinning a ball on his finger, and then stopped spinning it, the ball would fall off. The player didn’t intentionally knock the ball off, but it ceased spinning because of his idleness. That is what has happened to my cycles.

I have been forced to admit that nothing I experience anymore brings me the inherent joy I once felt for living. It feels like I’ve seen it before, like my life is a rerun. Not because things have happened before in a similar fashion, it’s different than that… in the same way a joke isn’t as funny when you’ve heard it a lot, even though it’s still the same joke. The most it seems that I can get out of situations now is entertainment or amusement. I’m occupied, but not content.

The worst part is that there’s nothing I want that would make me satisfied. It’s a void that’s impossible to fill because nothing exists to fill it. I’m thirsty, but don’t know what water is. Also, water doesn’t exist. Also, that might have been the weakest analogy ever.

I’ve always hated people, and searched for other people who hate people, but the current cynicism with which I view my non-named surroundings is unprecedented. It’s a disconnecting sort of view which has alienated any significant contact with a new person for quite some time. I prefer to spend my obligatory interactions with society with headphones on my ears. I’d rather watch the people than have to deal with them.

I started playing cards online. It’s gone decently; I’ve made several thousand dollars. I wish it was more. Constant exposure to calculating percentages has made me fall into a mathmatical thinking pattern. I think it entirely reasonable to equate a social interaction to a hand of cards. Think of it as symbolism. I’ve folded my share of relationships, and so have you.

The way I find myself feeling has led me to what seems to be a dangerous disconcern for my later life. I don’t look forward to hating it. It’s an uncertain future. I don’t know if I’m staying in school. I don’t really want to do anything.

I wonder what will happen when I run out of entertainment.