I don’t post much anymore. I don’t play music much anymore, especially now since my room was burgled and some of my instruments stolen. I’m not even bothered much by this fact anymore. I should be honest. Utterly honest.

It feels like I’m losing the battle. What battle? The battle with what I suppose could be called depression. Not the sort of depression that is prescribed medications (though at times that old friend visits for a week or so). Is it ennui? Is it the long dark night of the soul? I don’t know what to call it exactly. It is the feeling of being insensate, a sleepwalker through life. Acedia, is what the monastics called it.

It’s been sitting heavy on my chest for over a year already, but it’s been lingering there for awhile… since I returned from Japan. I feel that I’ve accomplished all that I’ve been able to accomplish and all that remains is sitting in the waiting room waiting for my number to be called, while I smoke, sip tea and read books to pass the time.

I’ve not been able to admit it because it is antithetical to the online world I’ve immersed myself in, the niche of the “dark enlightenment” with its call to become a man of action in a world slowly spinning out of control. To admit apathy, to refuse to embrace a vital existence, to see oneself as distant from a passionate carving of one’s own self is to admit failure and surrender.

But I can be honest now because I’ve stopped caring what anyone thinks, and I don’t even really know what I want anymore. I’ve been estranged from everyone and everything for so long that being adrift seems like destiny…