The Lonely Whale

I have contemplated becoming a carefree psychopath exactly four times in my life, always with a resolute gusto and an absolute lack of empathy, and each time it has ingrained itself in my life history as distinctly joyous yet short-lived bouts of ecstasy. I thought this was reflective of my tendency to be evil, an insufficient fear of god, and my willingness to break free; but it is only as I pen this right now, silent on my back in the midst of a pandemic enforced lockdown, recalling that my psychopathic modes ended due to my tendency to help - I realise that the return to normalcy is not due to insufficient evilness, but sufficient decency. 


And therein lies the biggest problem I seem to face - the grey area where I seem to exist. More so, it’s the awareness of my own greyness. Stuck between good and bad, happy and sad, present and absent; and sandwiched between being helpful and being beyond help. 

Everyone talks about ups and downs in life with various levels of sagacity. Some pester you with nihilistic wisdom, essentially telling you to get on with it; while others have sympathetic experiences fielding their advice. The problem is, all those words discuss the ends of the spectrum. They preach ideals when you’re at the top and qualities when you’re at the bottom. Yet no one ever advises how to navigate the transitions. 


The advice when one is slipping down is always of perseverance and bravery. The hint is that the next day will be better. That’s a sharp assumption that you’re at the bottom, so you think you cannot sink deeper and can only go up. Until you do go deeper, and that’s when the hope of the next day being better becomes weaker. 


But at least people have a go-to thing to say when you’re on the downward arch. While you’re going up, however, there often is an eerie absence of credible talk. Beyond the expressions of shared happiness or pleasure - genuine or otherwise - there doesn’t seem to be much that is said. 


I find myself forever stuck in these transitions, with no one really having something valuable to tell me. I feel that the world isn’t for me, I am ill-suited the way things function. But that’s not the problem. 

The good thing here is that at most times I find myself thinking and being happy on my own.


The problems are nights like today's when I realise I am the lonely whale

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