It is 4:42 AM. I'm listening to a haunting piece of piano music, and honestly, it is motivating me to write this...
I often wonder "Why do I feel so miserable?"
The greater question, perhaps, is am I really miserable? I have a rather good mind to believe that I am. I'm constantly purging myself of happiness, happy thoughts, small comforts that may bring me some joy. I'm not sure why I do this. If I don't really know, who does? No one...
But that is neither here nor there at the moment. If I feel I am miserable, then I must be. For sure, if my mind wanders to the dark places of my soul, if my heart longs for something of an ineffable nature, then I am at a loss to say I am not miserable. What does a man do when his own thoughts are sullen?
Oh yes, indeed, I am by no means depressed. This feeling I experience may lead to depression if I actually let it. But I'm a bit too self-driven for that. Much like regret, depression is a counter-productive emotion. And thus, like the supposed