Increasingly I find it hard to be motivated, to build new resources and lessons, to be present in the moment. Nothing has changed and I'm not standing on a cliff-edge, this is not the start of depression or anxiety or anything like that. This is me, this is who I am and this is how things are, how things have been and how things will be. I worry and obsess over things: my hair; my job; my tasks; my timetable; me me me.
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And I feel nothing again. Not the numbness of depression but an absence of feeling. Nothing. Emotion pricks with lyrics and music combined, as it always had: manufactured by the song-makers and the singers and the musicians and the studio engineers. Buying in to it, jealous of the costume and the spectacle and the ability to sing in tune and with a beat and dance to a rhythm.
End of the Third Reich dreams I used to call them. Those dreams of being in the armed forces against overwhelming forces, staring defeat and oblivion in the eyes, knowing that the cause was unjust, the reasons paltry and evil and knowing that the coming justice was deserved. Fighting for spite, knowing that the stand was pointless but seeing no other choice. Lately the military aspect has declined and, instead, it is Holocaust dreams. Not a victim, but seeing it develop around me, though there is no me in the dream just a fixed viewing point. Seeing the pain and feeling nothing. Seeing the development in buildings and encroaching darkness, complex intrigues doomed to fail, chances of redemption subsumed in flame and destruction. Helpless, observing, black and white.
Oh, I don't know. This isn't the post I was planning to write.