Empty at Work

I'm usually busy at work. And when I'm not and there's no one to chat with online, no one to pfaff with around and no one really to email or write to, the wash of emptiness is much more potent. Like an undertow that's pulling you out to a deep, depressive sea.
There's tiredness and a need to sleep and in a mind so empty, the constant eruption of feelings of regret. There could be eruptions of joy, could there not? But alas, it doesn't quite happen like that. It's always regret, self-rebuke, disappointment in oneself and when self-pity takes over, the desire to believe that situations and the world are actually conspirers.

Which is why I'm beginning to doubt this feeling. It's not a neutral empty. Or optionally, happiness is filling, fulfilling. And emptiness is just sadness in disguise.

This isn't quite the poetry I wanted to put in. But it should do. For a post if not literature.

And on request, a partly deranged pic.



A drunken moment at a farewell.