It's an odd thing, being aware that nobody wants to hear how miserable you are.
Last night, in a bout of loneliness and insomnia, I wrote a multi-paragraph "my life sucks" Facebook rant, only to delete it ten minutes later. A few people saw it, and to them I apologize.
The short of it is I'm not doing so great, because due to logistics and drama, there are a lot of people I care about who I never see, which is compounded by its similarity to circumstances in my past that tore evidently irreparable rifts between myself and other friends I care about. The result is I'm frustratingly lonely.
That's not why I'm writing now. I want to talk about why I deleted the woe-is-me rant. In the ten minutes between submission and deletion, I contemplated the attention it would bring, and it wasn't the attention I actually wanted. People would come with pity, and I would respond with martyr-like dismissal, causing a feedback loop of people trying to care for a person who has placed himself in a care-resistant position, thus, breeding more misery.
There's a reason I work so hard to be cheerful, energetic, optimistic. There's a reason I built Splurd, rallied my friends, tried to call us a team, a crew, a tribe. It's because that's the energy I want. I don't want to mope. I don't want to whine. I want to inspire. I want to have good times, play games, go on adventures. So what if no one has time to fly in my spaceship with me? I still have to keep it running. As hard as I have it, everyone else has it harder, and sooner or later, we're going to need to say to hell with life and all it's bullshit. We'll need to say to hell with all our troubles and every damned day bringing another damned thing to hold us down, to pull us back, to erode our will until we've got nothing left to fight with, nothing left to hope for. That's when you'll hear Splurd's engines turning, because I refused to give up. I refused to believe we could be beaten down. I believe that sooner or later, everyone will be ready for the biggest damned adventure we've ever had, and I'll reach down and pull my sinking friends from the water - along with anyone new who might be willing. Hands clasped, we become a crew again, a team. We charge our ship into the sky with no idea where we're going just for the sheer thrill of moving forward together.
Until then, here I stand. It's god damned lonely, I won't lie. It's god damned miserable at times, keeping a dream alive by yourself. It's not the first time I've lost hope and it will not be the last. You may yet hear from me the biggest, whiniest, most pathetic MY LIFE IS HARD rant the world has ever witnessed.
But not today. The ship may still need work, but she flies when she has to. Right now, though, the sun is out and I feel like hitting things with sticks.