A Burial

With a shovel in one hand and a full bag in the other, the man walked through the woods until he found his usual spot. The soil was still bare in places, marks from his previous burials. Slowly, he made his way to a green patch of undisturbed soil, his steps certain with the familiarity of an old habit.

He dropped the now heavier bag, lost in thoughts. His body followed the motions he had performed many times before. The shovel. To dirt. And out, slowly creating a hole. He dug for a long hour, feeling weight leave his body with each shovel of dirt removed. When he finally looked up, twilight had already come. He put down the shovel next to the hole and carefully picked the bag up. He breathed in. Another one, he thought as he placed the bag inside the grave. His eyes rested on it for a few moments. He sighed, exhaustion filling his body.

Regardless, as he forced himself to cover the grave he had made, his mind wandered to the first time. He longed for that release he had had when he first got rid of one of those. But now he couldn’t live without doing this.

The hole was covered. He looked down, still distinguishing the dirt in his clothes despite the darkness that surrounded him. He looked up, his work done. And without a word, he left, shovel in hand. Certain that he would soon return.


Sometimes things end…

… and that’s fine.

For the second half of this week I had been entertaining the thought of giving up my Arma group for the sake of continuing the Dark Heresy role-playing group I have been playing with during this year. Both are enjoyable, although in different ways and I would have loved to keep both. But due to time constrains, one had to go. My initial inclination, when I thought of it, was to err on the side of the small group that wouldn’t be able to continue otherwise. Part of that was because I believe that it mattered a lot to everyone involved.

However, the more I thought about it, the more it felt wrong. I thought I would end up regretting it and resenting others for my decision to give up something that I had invested on so much. And during the train ride back home from classes, something clicked. Not only did I not want to even have a reason to resent this group, but if they were me, they wouldn’t give it up. I would be falling on the usual unhealthy pattern of giving more than what I receive, being willing to bend myself beyond what seems reasonable without paying attention to what I want.

Once that clicked (and further reinforced by a friend, although for other reasons), it was easy to accept that it wouldn’t be able to go on and that there was nothing I could reasonably do.

Getting there, however, was not easy. My first instinct is to attempt to please everyone, even if it is at my expense. And it is not about what others would do, after all. I shouldn’t rely on that for long. I’m not them and I cannot act like them.


For a long time, happiness evaded me. I’d go through my day merely going through the motions, always pursuing the next high. I even forgot how to feel for a while, numb by everything. Curiously, it was during that time that I found the one song that reliably improves mood and that gets me to smile when I’m feeling down.

But, sadly, I can’t be happy just on that. It is great to push me out and make me feel better, but it isn’t enough to be happy by itself. And just like everything else, there is only so much that can do. The little pleasures of life are exactly that: just little pleasures. They can’t fix what is broken.

Instead, happiness for me comes from spending some time with those that I love. I might be feeling terrible, and in fact I might just want to quit. But I will still smile because there is just something special about knowing that, even if I feel broken inside, there is somebody who’s willing to help me pick up the pieces.

This post was written as a response to The Seeker’s Dungeon prompt “Getting to our happy place”

Drowned thoughts & dreams

My mind is tired. I’ve been bombarding it with an endless stream of information and busy work this past week. I can barely focus, let alone put to words what I want to say. I’m missing silence. Calm. Let my thoughts surface for a bit.

Last night, before sleep took me, I imagined a scene that brought me to tears.

A man, in his final moments, asks a person very dear to simply join him as he sits on the street, watching the setting sun. And maybe they’d talk, maybe they’d remain quiet. And he’d take her hand and hold it tight for the first time. Her head would rest on his shoulder as she supports him. Time would pass and the air would cool down. His hand would lose strength. A passerby would stop and ask if everything was alright. “He’s dead,” she’d say.

A part of me can’t help but think that this is perhaps for the best. Drown my mind with information and endless mind-numbing activities. Perhaps that’ll make me feel a little less pain from my own thoughts. Stop the thoughts from moving, from existing until all that’s left is only the present.

Another part of me is disgusted at the decay of the mind. At how it things feel ever more difficult as time passes. It complains, demanding better from me. “Think”, it says. But it all feels useless. There is little point in it all.

Sadly it would never happen that way. Either she wouldn’t be there, or he’d never die. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that only then he’d be able to taste something he had craved for a long time.

He told himself to stop romanticizing. Things weren’t going to be how he wanted them to be only because he wished them to be so. Come on, pick yourself up. Tomorrow will come and there is nothing you can do about it. It’s just one more day. Then you’ll get to pretend for a little while and forget.

And just as he went to sleep, he reminded himself of the promises he made years ago.

I feel broken. I feel empty. I feel like a part of me is missing. And trying to get back into EVE Online is both a terrible idea and a perhaps the best thing that I can do. It’s enough like a second job to keep me busy, but I am sure it will also consume me.

Don’t worry about it.

“Don’t worry about it” must be one of the phrases I say the most to the people I care about. Part of that is that, to me, it is a privilege to spend time with them. Sometimes, life gets in the way and it is much more important to deal with it (such as illness) than whatever it is I am going through or was planned. I won’t take it for granted and will certainly not expect them to put me above anything else.

Another part is that… I recognize how I am. I’ll be in the dumps, feeling terrible… And I can’t hide anything. It’s very easy to tell how I am feeling by just looking at me. Sometimes, I am even asked if I’m fine because I look sad when I’m just in my natural, neutral mood. Thing is, sometimes “don’t worry about it” because I’ll be fine in a while, or tomorrow.

Sometimes, focusing about how those I care about are feeling is a key part of feeling better. I spend too much time with my thoughts and more often than not an echo chamber of negativity forms inside, slowly eating me away and stepping out of it is a very important part of being better.

Regardless, I won’t fault them or blame them for not having time for me. It happens. No matter how much I feel like I need them, or I believe I need them.

  • My well-being comes second to their well-being
  • I downplay my issues (or portray them accurately, depending on how you view it)
  • I’ll never fault you