Tuesday, January 10, 2006melancholy and the infinite sadness...
(if you don't know what this is... check out Expedition # 1. You might want to then read Expedition # 2)
At this point, I knew that all was lost. I had failed at everything, and it was too late to even attempt saving anything. I had lost the girl, I had lost my confidence, I was failing my year at University... there was absolutely nothing good in my life at this point, and the future didn't give much of anything by way of hope.
My bed had become my enemy. A place where I layed and tortured myself with thoughts of just how bad my situation was... how hopeless everything was. The red hot pain inflicted on me by someone I wanted sooo bad burned double in intensity in bed. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my teeth would be clenched so tightly, my jaw would begin to hurt after a short period of time. I would sometimes think: "it would be good to die right about now." But those thoughts never really became serious.
So I stayed away from my bed. I stayed up all hours of the night, until exhausted, I would fall asleep either on my residence couch, or immediately upon touching my bed. Alcohol also became a good help in numbing my brain in preparation for bedtime.
Things were far worse before the music came into the picture. I have never been particularly good at expressing emotion. So until I discovered alternative grunge music, I just kept everything penned up inside, trying to suppress the pain and anguish I was in. Of course, it didn't work particularly well. On more than one occasion, I made a Class A fool of myself in public, usually under the influence, spreading my multiple issues before all. Humiliation ensued.
"Disarm you with a smile
And leave you like they left me here
To wither in denial
The bitterness of one who's left alone
Ooh, the years burn
Ooh, the years burn, burn, burn"
(Disarm, The Smashing Pumpkins)
Enter such songs. It's lyrics and sounds expressing in word and noise, every fear, every pain, and all hopelessness I was feeling. Then came one night in particular: I was looking out my bedroom window; all the lights were off... it was snowing outside... the radio playing in the background... and as I listened and stared into the cold night from my darkened room; I felt alone, melancholic and incredibly... comforted.
Yes, comforted. It was the music you see. My most secret thoughts and feelings found their outlet. I no longer had to make a fool of myself, or look pathetic in front of my friends. I could keep the details penned in, and when it got to be too much, I could just head back to the music for a proper "venting". No one had to know anything about my pain. No one had to know about my weaknesses. I could simply rely on the music, and just look like I guy who really liked to rock.
Oh! but the feeling I experienced that night! I knew something had happened to me, but I couldn't make out what it was. I knew that it probably wasn't a good thing, but I also knew that it would most likely help me survive my hardships. So willingly and consciously, I let myself drop into the deep well of melancholy and gloom...
(For the record: I spent 3-5 years in this state. Over time, through the powerful medium of music, my sadness and my melancholy transformed themselves into bitterness. Bitterness eventually developed into anger. Anger finally became hatred and an inordinate affection for all things unlovely, and ungodly.)