Home > thoughts > your shoes and the world to come.

your shoes and the world to come.

I really think I have a lot of reasons to be happy with my life. I do, I do. I have some sort of compositional ability (read: I can write, apparently very well at that), I’m a half-decent musician, I’m not in any sort of financial trouble, etcetc.

But I still feel extremely empty inside.

It’s almost as if I can’t let myself feel happy at all. Something’s always got to come up and turn my contented half-smile into a depressed/melancholic frown which, while usually only lasting a night or so, is infinitely repeatable and happens nearly every night (or every other night.)

Some people I know always feel incredibly proud and happy when they manage to write something they think is good or whatever, but me? I do, actually, but only for a short while. Far too short. After the whole rush of “damn, I think that’s pretty good!” disappears I’m left pretty much the same as before.


I think it’s quite telling that even with the whole horrible angst/infatuation-thing I had going on in school, even with assfuck physics and maths and whatnot to deal with, even with having to wake up early in the mornings and oftentimes sleep quite late, even though I simply hated school, I was truly happier back then. Nowadays I don’t have to wake up early every fucking day. I learn stuff that I actually, god forbid, like. I’m writing stuff, I’m composing stuff, I’m playing stuff, I’m designing stuff. People actually like some of my shit. I mean, seriously, I’m pretty sure someone else would be pretty stoked about that.

But not me. Oh no, not me.

It’s nice, yeah, but it’s like trying to fill up a bottle that has a small hole at the bottom. It’ll seem full for a while, but then, before you know it, it’s empty again.

Perhaps I’m just not happy here. Perhaps.

As an aside, listening to Envy with the volume up and lights off is just…


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