Time moves on like a train for us.
|—||Albert Camus (via rlyrlyugly)|
I am emotionally dependant on concerts. I probably have been ever since I went to my very first one in 2009, however I only just realised because of what occurred to me yesterday. When I finally arrived home in the late morning after the five-hour train journey I had taken upon myself solely to be able to see the last concert of my favourite Scottish duo Martin and James in Germany, I couldn’t help breaking down mentally as it struck me that it was actually over, and I ended up weeping on the floor of my bedroom for about two hours straight, completely overwhelmed by the apparent worthlessness of my whole life. It is fair to say I have never felt so down before. Of course it is nothing remarkable to be sad after an event of great personal value has come to an end, but even after a really important concert I haven’t experienced a despair of such sapping intensity previously. I was haunted by the fact of simply being incapable of ever achieving relatively permanent happiness due to whatever is wrong is with me, emphasized by the thought of having absolutely nothing to look forward to any more now that the tour and thus the three concerts I recently attended of it are all over. In addition, considering that my plans for the near future mainly take place abroad, I am uncertain as to whether I will ever get another chance to see those two guys live again, let alone several times, since they aren’t famous enough yet to play shows elsewhere than in Germany and Glasgow, which is pretty difficult seeing as I’ll go to Australia by the end of August. I do, in fact, still have a few other gigs ahead of that, nonetheless it just can’t be compared to what Martin and James offer. Because of their rather low popularity, their shows are way more intimate than usual, invariably including the opportunity to have a nice chat and take photos with them afterwards. The point is that during the last three years it has sort of become normality for me to see them live at least two times per year and take advantage of the possibilities their non-popularity provides, eventually leading to them being admired friends to me more than musicians I idolise from afar. They meanwhile know my face, my name and I have become comfortable enough with them to even build up a tendency to jokingly insult them when talking to them. Although I barely know them personally, it seems like I have become so attached to them that the uncertainty of seeing them again one day simply is too much to bear for me. I cannot properly express of what significance they and thus my confrontations with them are to me. I tried to by composing (and of course giving) a very cheesy letter of gratitude to them, however it still feels as if I haven’t stressed it sufficiently. How stupid that may sound, it hurts a bloody lot to let them go for now, respectively forever at worst. I feel like I can’t take it; never will. Everything is too much for me. I can’t cope with all of the negativity this world burdens me with, especially not without anything to make me happy to the extent Martin and James do. I would really like to quit. Just leave this world and all its misery behind. Because I know for sure that the people I care about the most will never love me back thus far. Therefore all this pain isn’t worth it at all. The highs of this rollercoaster won’t balance its lows in the end. It won’t pay off. So why prolong this torture? I condemn hope for convincing me to each time anew.
I say I want to be skinny yet I am always eating. I say I want good grades yet I procrastinate until it’s too late. I say I don’t want to be alone as I put my headphones in and never talk to anyone. I say I want to be a better and happier person as I sit here and count all the ways I hate myself.