In just a few couple of days I have lost some of the traits, I struggled very hard to attain. These things are ocularly mundane, but to me crucial steps towards anticipated mediocrity and a glimpse of working reality.
In a time span of one and a half months I was effectively practicing these things on a regular basis:
- Brushing my teeth before facing the Sandman
It is definitely no problem brushing my teeth in the morning, immediately after falling out of bed. Although I have to admit, not every day is a standard hygienic day. Why this is important should be out of the question. One can obviously be successful without the majority of ones teeth, but mastication is aggravated heavily by missing ones.
- Get out of the house once a day for fucks sake
May it be visiting a friend or going for a walk with the dog. I just wanted to maintain and possibly improve a certain level of activity. Epic fail.
- Getting up before ten o’clock every day
I still refuse to understand why so, but it is deemed important and nobody should be enabled to claim I oppose new ideas. Being awake before everyone else is similar to staying up longer than anyone in your house. Well not as nostalgic and with a lack of that lonesome wolf mentality nevertheless comparable.
- Exercise half of the weak
It lets me feel productivity and vigour. I hate working out. It is like practicing. It simply does not fit into my self portrayal, that I would need to practice things. Dumb, but still a mind-set deeply rooted and not discarded hassle-free.
- Practice my instruments daily
The same as the above, but with an infuriated incomprehension. It simply should not be. This is the universe fucking with me just for shits and giggles. I really like it, it makes me feel good about myself. In spite of all that I stopped.
- Sleep without any medication or drug
Recreative sleep is important at large. Drug-free sleep is vital to recovery. Sleep is a strange thing though.
I cannot rest easy with or without assistance. Meaning drugs legal or illegal do not prevent an awakening in discomfort ever and anon enhanced up to agony. A recrudescence in this is plausible to me, not desired, but plausible still.
This is a set back. I knew this would come. The knowledge of it’s pending doom did not empower me working towards its successful prevention. Not that I did not try. I set up a few routines to encounter this regression. Their futility ache, my inadequacy more so.
The circumstances of depression perfectly articulate the idea of Murphy’s Law. For every good or bad thing, its opposite will unavoidably follow.
Instead of the universe or karma or god or whatever entity you prefer, its judiciary is the own mind. In the mirror you see the punisher for every good deed, behaviour and prospect of veritable hope. To blame is the head.
I myself will not let me get away with anything good I feel about me. Be it benign or malignant, this cancerous life will get the better of me.
Now? Lets quit the whining and get on with retry no° 164 to get my shit back together.
Sleep my old nemesis, so we meet again. The last time I came unprepared, tired and resistant. This time I’ll add a few ounces of headache and excessive sweating. That should do the trick.
Fuck! I do hate sleeping.