On my drive in to work this morning I had a thought occur to me that hasn’t really before, but it struck me as a fairly accurate metaphor for how I feel on a day to day basis. Mind you, I’m in no way saying I’m even remotely a possession-oriented person, and I’m really typically a minimalist at heart. I buy few things, but when I buy things I need in life I try and ensure they’re of a substantive quality so that they last as long as I may need them. I also have no qualm with parting with things I haven’t used in extended periods, unless I foresee an immediate or near-immediate use for them.

It just was an odd thought that popped into my head that seems to express a feeling I have every day. I feel like the “Junk Lady” from the movie Labyrinth. Instead of possessions holding me down, every day that I go through the same boring motions adds another piece of shit to my back. Just another addition to the burden already holding me down. I don’t know what I can do to cut dead weight, emotionally. It’s not even that I dwell on things, necessarily. It’s simply this compounding effect on my mood that marches unabated and I really don’t know why.

The worst aspect of all has to be that it’s not for any reason other than depression. I don’t have reasons to feel this way. My life isn’t picture-perfect, but it’s overall pretty good. Probably better than good compared to a lot of people. Though, comparison is said to be the thief of joy, I don’t agree with that. It neither steals my joy nor does it give me joy. I’d say that comparison is just something you can do to waste time.

Have I ever mentioned that I fantasize about being fired at work? I imagine being fired and having to look for a new job and do hard things all over again, just because it seems like adversity gives me a feeling of being whole. I don’t understand it. The easier I have it the less able I am to cope. But honestly there isn’t anything at this point so difficult that I could ever feel the pang of adversity, even if I were fired. I’ve settled into a career and I am a subject matter expert. I have accomplishments under my belt in biomed, aerospace, automotive, and even some rail.

I feel broken sometimes, more than the average person might be. I feel like I might be defective. How has evolution not solved this? It seems like self-destruction has to be an environmental influence more than a genetic one, but the environment too can provide bottleneck events to sort multiple disparate genetics into a clean bin of two or three variants.

At this point I’m rambling. I’m not accomplishing anything. Spinning my wheels, as it were.

Alright, off to the rat race. The never-ending rat race.