I read a lovely post today on Shails Nest.
And was reminded of my own deep sadness some two years ago. This is one of the drawings I had done while feeling sad and disappointed and dejected and tired and hopeless and scared.
I don’t even remember the exact details of those four-five months of gut wrenching sorrow anymore. There were no concrete reasons to begin with. I do remember the physical tiredness in my neck as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I even started getting muscular spasms.
I like to think that I went through some existential crisis. I mean I do get troubled by the lack of meaning in life, especially when I am hungry or hungover. So for sometime I consoled myself that FINALLY I was proven to be a true blue Dostoyevsky fanatic. But it didn’t feel good in real life as it did when I imagined myself as one of his troubled characters.
I am sure mine must have been more of a mundane premature mid-life types. At least it was not some B 12 vitamin deficiency, thank god!!
But as Shail’s blog post says, (far more lucidly than mine), I am sometimes glad that I allowed that irrational sadness to take over my life.
It changed me and taught me to appreciate small things that I had.
Nothing bombastic. Quite cliched in fact.
FUCK THE REASONS AND ALWAYS LOOKING INWARD.
LOOK AT SIMPLE SMALL THINGS IN LIFE.
They are more than enough.
And in an odd way, I think Dostoyevsky would agree.