One Depressed Man's View Of America

William Butler Yeats, “being Irish, he had an abiding sense of tragedy, which sustained him through temporary periods of joy.”

Don't mind me if I get a bit cranky sometimes. It's just a mood that comes over me. There's a tightness to it that doesn't seem to originate in the muscles. It arises from deeper than that. It doesn't come very often now, and I'm very happy about that. I remember when it came several times every week, or every day for a spell, or for years, like all of my teenage years, and most of the days that came before that. It harms a body, this clenching, and the cumulative effects will kill me when that day comes.

I try not to complain, though. I've been luckier than many. I grew up, didn't I? Not everyone gets that far in life. I got married and raised children, and I enjoyed those things. I've never taken my own life, have I? Even though it's mine to take, and there have been times when the idea seemed reasonable. I have survived by learning how to act like a happier man than I actually am. It's like putting on a mask and adopting that relaxed posture that puts people at ease. I don't like it when the mask cracks, as it inevitably does. One incident is enough to drive most people away, and even family and close friends can only take so much.

The times that we live in make things hard for a man like me. Through my reactions, the difficulty is passed on to the people that I live and work with, people in shops, strangers, whole communities of people that I love, and who once loved me. It's tragic.

I read the news. Even twelve time zones away, it's very accessible. Alas, America! What the hell are people thinking? So many people actively wrecking everything in sight, and so many more acting like nothing is going wrong. Rights and prosperity down the drain. I've said it before, and maybe it's worth hearing again: the only good thing about it is that it takes the sting out of impending death. At least death is peaceful. If I'm right, death is four-corners peaceful, wall to wall, all the time, for the rest of time.

That will be a blessing.