Being A Grown Up Feels Like Punishment

I have a giant, existential chip on my shoulder.

My default emotional state is bored, gloomy irritation. Especially with the chores and social obligations that make up the bulk of waking life. I resent the passionless, undifferentiated routines of adulthood.

It takes a lot to make my happy. It takes very little to upset me. If you’re a happy extrovert, imagine being hungover, sick and under-slept. Then, imagine you feel the soft warmth of a spring sun on your cheeks, and every atom of your being laments YUCK. That’s how I feel spiritually everyday. I have a permanent spiritual hangover.

I’m too proactive to be depressed. Tennis, gym, travel, recreational reading, foreign language learning, an exciting lucrative career. Depressed people don’t fill their days like I do. It’s not depression, but more like an unshakable restlessness. A powerful desire to disengage. To withdraw into the silky, timeless, freedom of sleep and stay there, resting, as long as I like.

If this sounds like the whining of an ungrateful pansy, you’re not neurotic. You’ll never get it.

I wish that I could hear God whispering in the wind and feel his presence filling the world with Devine love. A hideous world lies before me.

But I continue to pray. I pray that one day I’ll wake up, and suddenly real life will begin.

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