It’s no secret that “King of Pain” is one of my all-time favorite songs. I consider it a signature description of my sometimes dark personality, but rather than hoping for an end to my own “reign of pain,” I’m actually at peace with it. Depression to me is not really a disease but rather a neutral state that reflects how I feel. Even then, most people don’t even realize when I’m in a depressive state because I’m always outgoing and friendly in real life, even while my soul may be currently wrenched in despair and turmoil. I think that’s why this song resonates with me: while the lyrics are truly melancholy in nature, the music itself is arguably upbeat and lively, counterbalancing the disquieting mood of depression with a more energetic appeal. It reflects a paradoxical soul at odds with itself, expressing opposing sentiments that somehow are both true and real.

So while I may have to stand out here in the pouring rain, I do so with a smile, and embrace my destiny as king of pain.

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain,
With the world turning circles running ’round my brain,
I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign,
But it’s my destiny to be the king of pain…

I was kinda in a really bad mood.

I do have moments like that (more than I’d care to admit), but after I calm down, a kind of melancholy then sets in. I really don’t want to be this angry with Him, but it’s hard trying to make some sense out of the events of the last few years, and since I’m the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, every bad thing that happens in life tends to cut me deeply.

There are times though when I suspect that I’m personally the butt of some sick, heavenly joke. I’d pray I meet someone at work for example who could be “the one” for me, and when I do meet that person, she ends up rejecting me and marrying another co-worker. If the answer to a prayer has to be no, fine, but why rub it in my face? Why humiliate me like that?

And that’s what life seems to be like these days: a series of prayers that not only go unanswered or rejected, but also seem to require some form of divine punishment for even daring to make them. Why?

It’s a simple question, but one that I don’t think will ever be answered.

The week is finally drawing to a close, and I’m stuck here at work for a few more hours with no one to talk to, and no one to chat with on my instant messaging list. Evidently the rest of the world had already made plans for Friday night that didn’t include me.

What a week too. From problems at work to struggling with my acid reflux problem, I’ve seen better days for sure. January was largely a crappy month, and so far 2007 is shaping up to be yet another crappy ass year. I’m fighting to change that though, but some days I feel like I’m not making any headway.

It always seems to be this time of week where my depression suddenly descends over me like a dark cloud, and I feel the full weight of the world on my shoulders. I guess I can understand why though, because of my work schedule I’m usually working Friday nights by myself at the office, so while everyone has an early jump on their weekend, I’m pretty much left here all by my lonesome.

It is then that a deep melancholy settles in when I realize I won’t be getting any calls from any good friends, nor will there be any surprise drop-ins from a loved one just to keep me company. I am a forgotten man.

How did it get to this point? I blame it largely on my health, which has deteriorated over the years because I’m not man enough to deal with my stress the right way. Sure, I’ve had some hard times in the past, even awful times. But I’ve only prolonged my misery by not rolling with the punches. I just let myself be beaten down by life, and it’s a miracle that I would still have some willpower left over to get up off the mat and try again.

But this time I fear I may already be down for the count. This acid reflux issue has me thinking I’ll never be healthy again, not without risking major surgery, and it’s completely draining my resolve. Only God can pull me out of the abyss, and it remains to be seen whether I’ve exhausted all of His grace to no longer be worthy of His aid, or whether His mercy will save me yet again.

I’m tired. I want to go home and sleep, sleep until I can dream those dreams where my life had taken a completely different path than the one it’s on now. A life where where I learn how to make good friends and keep them. A life where I finally meet my soulmate and better half. A life where I can and do make a difference. Such dreams are lovely, dark and deep…

…but I have miles to go before I can sleep.

Last weekend my town had a Columbus Day festival, which culminated in a fireworks celebration Sunday night. I happened to get a good view of the fireworks from my apartment, so I watched for a few minutes… by myself of course. I could hear the faint sound of the cheers of delight in the distance by the spectators. I could have gone to the festival myself, but I’ve been in this town for a long time, and in that time I’ve made very few friends, while the rest were people I’d just as soon not see again if I could help it. I suspected some of those people were at the festival too. Ironically enough, the very first time they started the Columbus festival, I was a freshman in high school and played in the marching band for the Columbus Day parade. My love for the town’s fair (and for the town itself) has since waned over the years.

As I watched the fireworks, all I could think about was that I was watching it alone. I was a single rocket, firing off into a lonely sky. And yet, I used to love fireworks, especially as an adolescent. Today, it brings me nothing but pain. The pain of knowing I have spent so many years going to festivals, watching fireworks, hitting the movie theaters, visiting parks and beaches, and yet, doing it all alone, unable to share those experiences with that special someone.

So I couldn’t enjoy it anymore. Instead of taking in the dazzling display, my mind wandered to all those people at the festival, many of who no doubt were holding hands and playing suck face while the rockets soared. I burned with envy and hatred as hot as the fireworks that were currently going off, which soon gave way to a deep despair. There may have been a time when I enjoyed being single, but I realized that time has now come and gone, and now all I’m left with is a sense of melancholy that precludes me from being able to enjoy any of life’s recreations. In short, I’ve stopped living. I can’t go out and enjoy life anymore, because I know I have to do it alone. I’m tired of having to say “table for one” every time I have dinner somewhere, or take in a movie and be unable to discuss it afterwards. I was tired of going on vacation and doing romantic things such as taking a steamboat cruise, or walking down the beach, and yet having to do it all without “her.”

In years past, the despair I would feel at being alone was usually buffered with a sense of hope that soon, someday soon, my suffering would at long last come to an end, and I would finally meet the woman of my dreams. But as one year gave way to another, my hope began to wither and die. It’s no wonder I exhibit so little effort to take care of myself. The loss of hope has given me a loss of will to carry on. It’s like a slow way to commit suicide. I won’t do it outright, so by letting my health deteriorate, this is a round about way for me to accomplish the same goal. The world succeeded in crushing my spirit, and it seems I’ll never be able to recover from the devastation.

All that is left is to hope for either a miracle, or a death that will come sooner, rather than later.