Pursued By The What?

It isn’t easy being pursued by a sense of doom wherever you go. Other senses are more easily assimilated into the personality, it seems to me: duty, for example, isn’t easy to live with, to have as a consideration whatever you do and wherever you are, but it’s not as bad a doom. Doom causes pressure: crushing, relentless pressure. It is immaterial that a mere feeling cannot hurt you and represents nothing concrete. The feeling is the thing, and this one weighs you down, literally it acts as heavy objects carried around on the back and the shoulders do, and it causes stooping, a physical expression of the psychological experience. It isn’t pleasant, not at all, and there seems little that can be done when faced with such presentiments.

Almost every day, in some way or other, I feel like events will turn bad. Like I’ll do something stupid or forget to do something or do something in a substandard way, and the effect of this strange imaginative world I have created does violence to my emotional wellbeing. I have long thought that some of us do not suffer from stress as much as others (or, even, at all) because they are simply not intelligent enough to dwell on the uncertainties of the future, and worry about outcomes, and agonise over the results of events which cannot be known, as they themselves will flow on from choices which are in the future and cannot be known until they are presented. Yes, I worry. About things I can’t possibly change, about things I could maybe change but didn’t try hard enough to change, about things I should have noted had become an issue but didn’t and they’ve just blown up in my face (yep, to wonder about things that have “just blown up in your face” but haven’t yet, because we are talking about several steps into the future is a bit of an illogical thing to focus one’s attention upon, but there you go: I do).

Maybe the intelligence thing isn’t relevant. Maybe it’s a sort of excuse. An acknowledgement that I am stifled and occasionally paralysed by a superstitious outlook, but have sought to rationalise my position, to find something positive in it: that you need to be special to have a soul this sclerotic and in need of whatever sickbay attention souls are given. I can’t help but feel that the same lack of foresight which allows someone to commit a bank robbery when their face is clearly seen on security cameras, perhaps disguised by drawing glasses onto it with a marking pen, as a ‘disguise’ (which really happened), is wedded to a world view that doesn’t admit too much introspection. But maybe that robbery was an act of desperation, not stupidity. Maybe I’m being unfair. But I don’t think I am.

There are, of course, positive features of considering the future in negative terms, and being unable to take your mind off these possibilities. It means you plan. It means you are seldom surprised by the turn of events. It means your mind is geared to outcomes based on relatively little information, and in my case means that gambling not only takes one’s mind off other thoughts, but it actually indulges the part of the brain that wants to consider and sort the possible ramifications of any given situation. It’s an active part of the brain, if you’re like me; if it were a part of the exterior of the body it would have unnaturally developed muscles on it – but this doesn’t mean that I’m a gambling genius … well, not yet anyway. I’d like a chance to bet professionally, but wiser heads (Laetitia) have counselled otherwise: She said “No”.

Published in: on August 31, 2010 at 8:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

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