Melancholy (journal)

Mexico – Thursday, 10, 2020

Today I cried. Not a common occurrence. I feel deeply. But I’m not usually demonstrative…crying, whooping and hollering, yelling. Not those ways of expression.

For the past two weeks, I’ve felt melancholy more than usual. I can’t help but think about the state of things. Some of this is because I’ve been touched by the increasing tragedy in personal ways. But also bearing witness to the suffering of people. Things seem to be snowballing.

People are so divided. I see no path to a solution. I’ve been spending time reading as many views as I can. Every option offered as truth is dug in and zealous. I have never seen so much wishing of persecution from all sides in my lifetime.

Around 2006, I came to existential and dramatic revelations about the world. I was changed by it. I’ve struggled with those changes. I went through grief. My entire identity was shaken and a rest was begun. The last of my idealism died a painful death. Now I feel like I exist in a no man’s land. I’m surrounded by people, but very few are aware of what I am.

All this is to say that there aren’t many people I feel I can express how I feel about all the crazy things that are happening right now. I can’t explain my view simply.

I have daily been reminding myself of Stoicism. The philosophy. To live it. I also keep occupied with pursuits: painting, reading, creative projects, going to the gym,

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