…but it rather rapidly turned into vaguely disquieting, and not in a way that the author intended.
“Well, things haven’t gone totally to hell,” I told my friend through the phone, trying to put a good spin on a needlessly bad situation of mostly my own creation. “Maybe I’m getting wiser.”
“Wiser?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re not wiser. You’re just making bad decisions more slowly and deliberately than you used to.”
He was right. We laughed at me. I thanked him for talking me through yet another episode of my own stupidity, we said our goodbyes, and I went to bed.
I’m not a psychiatrist. But if a friend of mine wrote this article I’d be telling him or her to go see one, just to make sure that there isn’t any kind of clinical depression going on, here. – Because the whole thing seems to tell the story of a solitary man who is profoundly unhappy with himself for the way that he’s led his life, who thinks that his life has no inherent value, and who has irregular sleep habits.
Again, not a psychiatrist. But it’s still a little… alarming, really.