In recent weeks, I’ve been going through something of an existential crisis. Par for the course, of course (of course), but pretty dire nonetheless. The best way I can describe it is that it’s akin to the sequence in High Fidelity (the movie, not the book), where Rob (John Cusack’s character) finds himself trying to figure out where things went so horribly wrong and why.
Note to self: High Fidelity (the movie, not the book) is probably not the best model to emulate when suffering a bout of emotional instability, because (a) there are some things you’re probably better off not knowing; and (b) being damned with faint praise is the surest way to send the remains of your self-esteem careening over the edge. Accept no substitutes.
As to the “why”, it basically comes down to this:
In similar circumstances, my former lover once wrote:
Interesting how inadequate language can be, when you’re looking for a little meaning
Maybe so, but sometimes I find that language sticks the knife in and twists it. Language can be a bit of a bastard that way.