Purposelessness

I've been sitting at this screen all night.
I keep starting the post, writing it, then deleting it.

I don't really know how to say what I want to say.

I suppose I've been running through the same thoughts since I read a post yesterday by a blogger who'd just celebrated their thirtieth birthday. And it brought it home to me.

The awful truth.
I turned thirty this year. And I've struggled with it. Struggled against it. Struggled against the fact that I feel in my bones it's over.

That all my hopes are dead. There is nothing to look forward to. It's never going to happen.

All my life I have lived one thing in mind. How I'm remembered when I'm gone. I guess nothing else has ever mattered to me. Life is a game and the prize is how you're remembered. And I've been fighting over the last couple of years to give myself some focus, some sense that my existence matters.

I realise how much I despise myself for not having done anything. For not being in a position now where I'd be remembered if I died tomorrow. And you can say you'd be remembered by those close to you. Not good enough. You can say 'You may not be somebody to the world, but you can be the world to somebody'.

I think over the last couple of years I realised something very powerful. How much I'd lost interest in my own existence. Not much in it to hope for any more. As me, life was pretty much over. Oh, you might say I'm still young. Maybe. But I'm not as pretty as I was. Not really got much to hope for. Stuck with that suspicion that the best bit of my life is over, really.

And I guess when Crushed was born, he was hope. I guess I started to believe in a new life. Crushed could still do it. I actually felt happy being Crushed. And I guess that made me feel Ok about life. I did have a purpose. Crushed. And yes, that became more important than anything.
I started to visualise the possibility of winding the rest of my life down. Really just devote it to work. Cut out anything that ultimately damaged Crushed.

You need to understand this. Ultimately, it meant a decision to write off any personal relationships. Why?
Because the whole point was, I had conceded that I wasn't going to achieve anything now under my real name, so why waste time on personal relationships? Live as Crushed.

Put Crushed first and Real Me second.

I think I believed it could happen. That gradually I'd be able to close down my real life. That through Crushed I'd find the happiness I now knew I could never have in Real Life.

I'd started to plan for his future. Even to the degree of ensuring that when I died, it would be announced on my blog. I'd started to see that as the judgement moment of my life. The comments section on my death.

It gave me hope, it really did.

I am proud of Crushed, I don't deny that. I would rather be remembered as Crushed than as me.

But you see- I'm going to get into bed now and try and get some sleep. And you know something? I kind of wish that I wasn't going to wake up again at some point. I'm tired. I've lived too long and I'm pretty much dry on the hope front.

I was asked recently in an interview what my proudest achievement in life was. And I smiled. Because I couldn't say. But it's this.

I realise that I'm going to have a last cup of coffee and a cigarette and ponder. I'm trying to get my life in perspective here.

I realise I'm totally lost now really. I've been on this post now over twelve hours, on and off.

I can sit and make wishes all I want, but I must go to bed and try sleep.
Thing is, I will wake some time.

I'm really tired. This is probably getting incoherant.

I think what I'm trying to say is right now, I really feel like I've lost the will to live. And I don't know if I'll feel differently when I wake up.
And I've been running through that all night.