A personal path

I’m about to begin a very difficult period in my life. I’m going to be dealing with serious issues pertaining to the very essence of who I am.

Stuff that I shouldn’t be blogging about.

But frankly, I don’t know what else to do. I re-started this blog recently with the hope that I could form some sort of identity as a blogger and, along the way, form some sort of cohesive philosophy that might be worth discussing. I felt like I had some good ideas to share, some thoughts that other people might find interesting.

But now I don’t even know if I’m a person worth listening to. I don’t even know if I’m a stable, well-adjusted human being. Actually, I do know that I am definitely not that. I definitely do not have my shit together.

In my most grandiose visions, I think of myself as somebody who is figuring stuff out. Working out the big issues that people deal with, and forming a method for making sense of the madness of everyday life. Part of this is my own introspective nature, but it’s also my narcissism telling me that I’m acquiring secret wisdom that other people aren’t. Combine this with a desire to find a niche in this world, and you get a broken person who thinks he can fix others. That’s me in a nutshell.

But I’m also insightful enough (or insecure enough) to know how ridiculous that is. That it’s absolutely ludicrous to think I have Answers. I truly know that I have no business giving advice. But I also thought that I could structure blogging in a way that would make it clear that I still figuring stuff out. That I’m on a path, with a good idea of where it’s leading, but with no real evidence to back it up.

But now, over the past 3 days, I’ve had relationship issues that have forced me to realize what a truly broken person I am. The prospect of being alone again has made me realize how truly alone I was before the relationship began and, in some ways, how alone I was all along. Combined with my lack of professional footing, I feel like a empty shell, set adrift in a ocean of aimless depression.

My proactive instincts tell me to fix the situation. To figure shit out and get back on a path, any path, that adds meaning to my mediocre existence. I should focus on job skills, or creating art, for finding a new city to live in, or…

I don’t know.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this post. Other than it might help to get things off my chest, to get them in writing. Because I don’t really have anybody to talk to. Nor any inclination to talk. I only want to yell. And cry. And go back to bed.

So that’s my predicament. I’m an introverted person with few friends, zero true friends, a weak career path, artistic talent but no direction, and right now I’m really, really sad.

Perhaps this post, and whatever follows, is a pathetic exercise into the soul of a worthless person who will be forgotten the second after they clean out his apartment. Or perhaps this is a first step me constructing a life that will be worthwhile.

Perhaps I’ll look back at this some day and laugh at how pathetic I was in this moment.