I’ll sit in a beautiful campground, on a beautiful night, with amazing people, and just feel fucking…dejected. Like my balloon has no air and my life has no purpose. Like every bit of happiness I’ve ever had was just me improperly understanding that only sadness is real. Like being sad, or empty, is just a lot more comfortable than being happy, or smiling. Fuck, smiling seems like such a silly thing to do. Why would you ever feel like flexing that odd combination of minute facial muscles? So I go to the car, get the ukulele, and improv my way into the chorus that will now feel like the perfect reflection of my soul, or heart, or fucking neurons or whatever, roughly 15% of the time. “What’s the fucking point of anything?”
And then by the midpoint of the next day I feel so fucking amazing, because the world is so beautiful and so much fun and everyone wants to learn Spanish. There’s hiking, and gators, and we feel like explorers and thinkers, and there’s a real chance immigration reform with a path to citizenship might happen this year. And honestly, what could be better?
And then within a day or two I’m feeling unsmiley again. And I do a week of this oscillating thing. And it just feels dumb. And I apparently now start every fucking sentence with ‘and.’ In our lives, in general, we usually try to connect our emotional states with things happening in our lives, or thoughts, because there is a cause-effect relationship, some of the time. Things make us happy. Some shit makes us sad. But I think we over-reach; we try to find causes for all our unhappiness. And I think it’s clearer than before that I have no reason for this shit. The days I’m sad are no better or worse than the other days. Sometimes my brain chemicals just produce unhappiness. Or maybe it’s that I’m lucky and my brain usually creates more happiness than the average person. Or maybe it doesn’t. Maybe other people are happier. Maybe happiness is different for everyone and can’t be compared.
And then it’s time to go kayaking and I’m fucking pumped. Or it’s time to eat a piece of bread and I’m fucking pumped. And then life is wonderful?