Peaked Too Soon

LETTER TO SHAUNY

“…Sounds like you’re slowly getting back on track. I must say it’s been a weird experience for me so far. If I had a job/routine to go back to then I’d be more adjusted. I’m not feeling unhappy, far from it, but just kind of hanging and waiting for something but not quite sure what. Trips away and catching up with friends feel like punctuation marks, if you get what I mean. I’ve had a similar feeling before. No, actually I’ve probably had this feeling on and off for most of my adult life. It’s definitely searching but not knowing what it is you’re looking for. Something’s missing (and it’s NOT a baby). Oh God! I think this is the precursor to another existential crisis!

I got a little distracted by the nothingness that was going on around me. Now I’m settled, sitting in the lounge room with the afternoon sun filtering through the windows, a slight breeze, an icy cold beer and Sigur Ros playing in the background. I thought I might as well make this a social get together even if it’s just virtual you and I alone.

Where was I up to? Pre-existential crisis. I often get the feeling that the best days of my life are already over. I think it comes from being an overachiever, having travelled quite extensively and doing some amazing things, all from an earlier age. It’s like my life was (has been) compressed in time and things that people do over decades I’ve already done during my 20s. In the past 7 years, there hasn’t really been anything going on in my life or that I’ve done that actually feels meaningful, an achievement or anywhere near exhilarating. It’s almost like my life stopped at 27 (the age I often mistakenly mentally quote when asked how old I am). I have Thabo – he’s the only really amazing thing that’s happened in the recent years. But you can’t live on another person alone.

I’ve just reread what I’ve written and it sounds rather depressing and hopeless…it is, in that I-wouldn’t-necessarily-miss-my-life-if-I-died-tomorrow, kind of way. Oh shit! That sounds even worse. It isn’t a feeling of depression, but more, resignation and until I’m able to find my passion/s, I think I might be stuck for a little while just drifting through life and wondering where I’m supposed to be. Killing time. What would ease my mind, is for some reassurance or confirmation that this will happen, and that my existence right at this moment, isn’t all there is. Music makes me happy. Sorry, it’s my mind drifting again as I listen to Sigur Ros.

I feel like a spoilt little shit that I’m not appreciating what I have. How many people are given as many opportunities as we are, good education, travel, nice places in which to stay, fantastic food…etc etc etc. You know what, Shauny, Europe really isn’t for me. {I digress from the above topic now…this is why I avoid long e-mails of free-form thought because I become schizophrenic and tangential}. I initially found travelling around Europe exciting because I’d not seen it before but I’ve sadly lost interest in it. The places I’ve most enjoyed because they impacted on me in some way are all in Africa or SE Asia. They make me feel grateful to be alive partly by allowing me to witness life in at it’s simplest, human suffering and people’s will and desire to live despite the adversity, and maintaining a certain dignity and pride. I feel touched and moved by the people. That’s not something I’ve felt since moving to London and travelling around Europe…”

Polished Sadness

I don’t even really know her. A girl from work with a doll-face and Bambi eyes, seemingly vulnerable and wild at the same time. But for some reason (maybe it was my nosiness and annoying pestering) she shared with me, the details of her personal webpage. Her name is Frankie.

Poor sweet Frankie,

I cried over, “a friend indeed.” Not out of sympathy for you but with complete empathy and a selfish joy knowing that I was not alone in my isolation and misery. You should not mistaken the banalities of daily work conversation to be reflective of the individual (well, perhaps some…maybe, many). Our work environment is not conducive to more than gossip and small talk, and with the overabundance of self-importance, it’s hardly surprising that there is little reciprocity in meaningful conversation. It’s taken six months for my self-perceived obtrusiveness to resolve and I still don’t give of myself readily. You may be familiar with feeling that you have much to offer but that which is special about you won’t be or isn’t valued. For me, it’s like having a secret that is precious and fragile; I don’t wish to give it away and have it laughed at or worse still find that what I thought was so precious isn’t even worthy of acknowledgement by others.

Maybe we’re all too consumed by the grudge of our daily lives, too self-absorbed, too introspective to reach out or realize we’re all united by our collective misery.

You are intelligent, talented, beautiful, interesting and interested.

Anderes.

Neighbours

Dear Dan what are you doing with a cow like her and Bobby you stupid bitch,

Please don’t take offence with this letter. You probably don’t realize because you’re too up your own stinking arse (and we should have said much earlier) that the ceiling/floor boards between us conduct noise so well that we can hear every fucking step you take like a herd of elephant bulls in musk and even when you drop your shoes to the floor. What do you guys do?! Throw bowling balls and ten pins up in the air and to the ground in celebration of your supremacy? It has become an annoyance having our sleep disturbed repeatedly by the beat of your doof-doof middle-age crisis trying to recapture youth and hip trance music each morning and occasional every night. Will you please be mindful of the above during week days and in fact everyday?

Thank you so much for your consideration for once. We don’t mean to be party-poopers but decent sleep is so precious and we would like a few fucking beat free nights!

Kind regards shove it up your arse,
Anderes, Thabo and Dunce.