It’s becoming clear to me that I may never be truly happy in my life, and what makes it worse is that depression can come on me suddenly, for no other reason than that I’m jealous of my friends finding happiness. Yes, every time I read on Facebook (I know, “first world problems”, but still) that an old friend I haven’t seen in years has gotten married, it reminds me of how utterly alone I am and have always been (apart from that brief period in 1998 that I was actually able to get dates — I don’t think it’s even remotely coincidental that I was in the US at the time) — for the simple reason that I didn’t learn “the rules” when I was a teenager, and when I went to university without having even kissed a girl, it was basically “already too late”.
Of course, it could just be that I haven’t been able to go climbing since the start of October thanks to a cold, which has now more or less gone, so hopefully today will be the day I sort myself out. Unfortunately, Transport for London have decided in their
infinite infinitessimal wisdom to close my exact bit of the Northern Line this weekend, but the silver lining is that it may have prompted me to find an easier way to The Castle: getting a bus to Arnos Grove and then taking the Piccadilly Line direct! I’ll let you know if it works. Rail replacement buses can kiss my hairy yellow butt. And there we are, old humorous Dave-ros is back!
What I do know is, I’ll never, ever find someone if I’m still prone to these stupid self-absorbed bouts of brooding depression. Maybe I need help, and should stop trying to cure myself… because you know who else used to do self-diagnosis and self-treatment? Hitler!