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Bit like face-planting on the pavement…
I’ve become irascible, can’t help it but that’s the way I feel. A rather dismal life grinds slowly to a close with little in the way of achievement or purpose – simply another cadiver to take its place at some future time in the morgue. Assuming I don’t self-immolate first. It’s all a bit like tripping up and face-planting the pavement – personal, painful and embarrassing.
I think I should have done more with my life – I know I should but God knows what! My life has been a meandering, meaningless succession of jobs, interspersed with some sad pathetic love affairs and a lot of self-loathing.
It’s not as if I love people – I don’t. I find them ‘strange’ and although I can handle talking to them brilliantly for about 5 minutes, either I lose interest or more likely, they do. I’m just not a people person, I don’t and never will understand what makes them tick.
Retirement so far, has been an exercise in musing upon my reflection in the mirror. Normally, it’s a sad occupation done once a day in the morning, where I stand bleary-eyed, a ragged effigy of a man, dumbly regarding the crumpled old blotchy face that stares back at me through hollow accusing eyes. The energy dried-up, the laughter and whimsical desires now silent and dissipated, the youthful zeal replaced by a mere quizzical, knowing acceptance of a dissolute life.
Where did I go wrong? I trained (several times), had some good paid jobs, fell in and out of love, was passionate according to my then young hormones and had lots and lots of jobs (I contract). All my peers seems to have dropped off their respective perches and I find myself cursing God, or whatever it is that has kept me alive for so long.
I just wish that there was something that I enjoyed (other than being a pathetic moaning wretch), something that reignited my spontaneity or just plain zest to do, to achieve. But I look at my fellow man – younger and older, and I see shapes, I do not see people. I see the dreary reality of doing what I have done for years, simply to provide and keep going – it’s like walking through deep snow in a snow storm.
Even this, this rambling missive, is simply an exercise in ‘filling the void’. I guess I shall now go off and write a few caustic comments in the Daily Mail along with the other mad old ducks…..
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