5th August 2007 - The utter fucking pointlessness of being

I was having one of those days. One when you are overcome with ennui. Or maybe overcome with rage. Overcome by the smallness of your own life, the utter fucking pointlessness of existing in the first place. One of those feelings when you are aware - with stoned like clarity - of the odds of you existing and the irrelevance of your every action, every decision, every breath.

I still went to see Dad, which probably wasn't the best idea. When you are already in your melancholic, self indulgent wallowy depths, the last thing you really need is further evidence of life's suckiness. And a good measure of kick-up the arseness at the same time - "At least you're not here" my mind kept telling me while the wallower half answered "Yet".

So, I wasn't much use to Dad today. If I ever am any use to him. Tomorrow I'll feel better. Tonight I'll drink too much so that tomorrow my fuzzy mind will behave tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow Dad. I'll be gentle tomorrow, and I'll be kind. Sorry Dad.