Of Want and Need

Or Why I Really Shouldn't Think or Write While in a Gloomy State of Mind.

It's grey today. Again.

Just when I thought spring was ready to kick down the doors, it snowed yesterday. Now everything's damp and grey. Cold, damp and grey. It's days like this that chill me to the bone and make me wonder if I'll ever feel warm again. My thoughts are as grey as the sky.

The irony of all this? I'd been wondering how I'd get into the mood to draw my Despair desktop. Now I'm wondering how I'm going to get the motivation to stop moping and start doing.

I hate these moods. I don't do them well. I hate feeling down. It feels too much like self-pity. I then become angry with myself and berate myself, dragging myself to an even further low. This goes on and on until I manage to haul my ass into gear and do something, anything, productive. The only way out is to do. Not think. Not feel. Do.

But even while I'm busy keeping myself-- and my mind-- preoccupied, every so often a nasty little nagging thought will enter my mind and destroy whatever calm I managed to create. The zen-like feeling I had from creating that elaborate meal or drawing that detailed drawing-- you can tell when I'm feeling badly, I become very detailed in my work-- is shattered in that one split second. That happened for me yesterday.

The thought? Well, it started when I thought about my impending 30th birthday. I know, I know. 30 isn't old. But I'd had such plans. Things I would do. Adventures I'd have. I feel like I've let myself down somehow, but that wasn't what really got me. It was the knowledge that I'm still as vaguely dissatisfied as I was 10-- and even 20-- years ago. I figured that, by now at least, I'd know what I want.

That's the thought that's always bothered me. What do I want? It's not love. I've never really needed companionship. It's a nice perk, but not necessary for my happiness or well-being. Understanding? Not really. I like being a bit of a mystery. Will a job fulfill me? Not really. I'd be content with a variety of jobs. My job isn't who I am. And, all in all, I'm generally content with my life. It could be better, but it certainly could be worse. I know, I lived worse before. It's not an issue of needs. So what's the problem? ...I don't know.

I've always felt that there's this missing piece. I figured it would come to me in time. And I've waited. And searched. I'm no closer to it than I had been all those years ago. I'm not a patient person, I want to know what I want to know and I want to know it now.

What is it that I want to know? No fucking clue. Do I need to know it? I wish I knew.