Camera-Shy

My adult life has been so unfulfilling and disappointing. I keep trying my best and it’s never enough

You could start over with me. Wouldn’t it be so sweet?

I think this has been the worst year of my life. I have consistently tried so hard at many things. I slog on probably more stoically than ever. Life feels infinitely large, and I understand that now, but I also comprehend and experience the capacity for life and circumstances to back us into the smallest of corners that  appear mundane from every vantage point but can envelope you in anguish.

I have thought a lot about responsibility, sincerity, and mortality in ways I haven’t before. My father is still alive, but he was close to death as I was freezing in a bar in Canada, wishing I could be anywhere else as the din of hockey and conversation engulfed me. I recited Hail Mary’s as i tried to sedate myself enough to fall asleep one summer night, and the humidity was stifling. I checked the prices of stock securities I owned, and then my mind would wander into Eliade-induced flights of fancy wherein my ascetic resolve had the power to deliver me from the things I feared.

Another year passed. I still feel quite alone. There are rays of light that creep through the concrete slabs of the days. But I cannot escape the anxiety of time passing, growing isolation, and mounting disappointment. I wish I could feel the nuance and texture I associate with the past. I think I’ve been traumatized into the rote movements of an automaton. I do my best, but it’s not enough.

Is this what you felt like before you died? Every avenue felt like a dead end, and you wondered if your mind had stop extending to certain heights, and you maybe missed every opportunity to see everything you hoped for in the light of day. No glamor in a setting sun when all the ground around you is wan and sinking, all the passersby are laughing but the joke never resonated with you.

One of my best friends died weeks ago, and it’s only beginning to feel real now. He was one of the only people that understood the way I thought and what I valued. The only other person that can kind of understand me is my dad, and he’s getting old and his health isn’t great.

When I woke up I saw everything in a different light, but I didn’t want to. Tonight I skateboarded around the park and basketball courts, and there was a film over my eyes from the cold and inflammation. So much means so little to me and the rest kind of feels like ashes running through my hands and staining my clothes.

Less depressed than ever, but unhappier than ever

I know it sounds dumb, but it is the truth. I want to share a third floor fire escape view with you.

There are meters of mercury, and ways of knowing or gauging – and clasping fingers when measurements fail When I was younger I wore a shirt that indicated we would laugh a great deal in the future as surely as ferris wheels tumbling or my self sinking preciously into words and the humidity of nearly being happy Hiccuping doubled over I have to be grateful for: All the mornings of the world, everything I can count on one hand. On a brighter summer day I will swing my legs, when no wood chips will sting my back — and falling a few feet will be more like clicking my heels.

I think the time has come to retire this blog. Farewell Camera-Shy (2011-2018)

Every time I’m on like a ten day-long stretch of feeling like a human being I end up waking up one day and descending back into unrelenting dysphoria, browsing this website, and then wondering why 16+ years, a dozen prescription medications, and whatever else later my existence is still like this.

I remember in middle school I was friends with this kid who would gradually become more and more of a bro-y douche, but he had a drumset with a splash cymbal. To this day if I hear a song with a splash cymbal I think of him.

My birthday is approaching and I’m not even mad. I’m somewhat amazed by the fact that the weather improving has been making me feel less lifeless and mentally sluggish. I’m pretty sure Benny is going to visit me for my birthday, and he asked non-ironically “do you want to get Italian,” but I thought he was trolling since I don’t like Italian food. Or well, what is deemed Italian food in the US because it is just carby and not filling.  I’ve been eating a lot of sauerkraut and trying to do anything to “reduce inflammation.” I bought blueberries for the first time in ages, and my sister sent me a Nespresso machine the other day. Someone “asked me out,” and we went to a goth event. We talked about Edward Yang, that post about ‘shoegaze pronounced like fugazi’, and she has an adorable lisp. I think it’s the first time I’ve had a “crush” in two years because I realize I have unconsciously and non-voluntarily turned off most of my emotions at least since 2015. 

In any case, I got the cable for my headphones replaced so I can finally listen to music at work again without resorting to an awful headset used for “gotoMeeting” conference calls.