More than 24 hours after my previous post, I realise I might have overreacted. A lot. To be fair, I wrote my previous post on my Notes app on my phone at the driving centre itself and then published it when I found wifi at Tesco, so all my emotions and wounds were still fresh and raw, and I was, to put it bluntly, a bitter old lady. Mostly, I was just very disappointed in myself for letting my parents down after all that they’ve done for me that I was even afraid of telling them about it.
I came home after that, still licking my own wounds, and tried to watch Avengers to cheer myself up. And then I fell sick, and all optimistic thoughts went out the window. It also didn’t help that I was reminded that The Wanted’s concert was on that day itself and that I could’ve gone to that concert because it wasn’t like I had acquired a driver’s license to compensate for it. And then the rest of the day was just me being bitter and feeling absolutely horrible and just thinking. That was it, really. I can’t remember anything about yesterday except that I watched the Avengers and then felt everything that was to be felt the rest of the day, besides also lashing out bitterly at most people that talked to me on Twitter and reliving scenes during my driving test. Those weren’t easy to let go of. Pain demands to be felt. I was a magnet attracting all sorts of negative thoughts and the remaining energy I had left was dissipated in the form of sneezing and blowing snot out of my nose.
But I’ve accepted my failure now, come to realise that it’s not as such a big deal as I’d made it out to be, and that in the grand scheme of things, this was but a small hurdle in the way.
And that was how my Blue Monday went, and in the history of annual Blue Mondays I’ve ever had, that was the worst. And I attribute my Blue Monday (and all my Blue Mondays) to my Melancholic temperament.
From “The Four Temperaments,” by Rev. Conrad Hock:
- Is self-conscious, easily embarrassed, timid, bashful.
- Avoids talking before a group; when obliged to he finds it difficult.
- Prefers to work and play alone. Good in details; careful.
- Is deliberative; slow in making decisions; perhaps overcautious even in minor matters.
- Is lacking in self-confidence and initiative; compliant and yielding.
- Tends to be detached from environment; reserved and distant except to intimate friends.
- Tends to be depressed; frequently moody or gloomy; very sensitive; easily hurt.
- Does not form acquaintances readily; prefers narrow range of friends; tends to exclude others.
- Worries over possible misfortune; crosses bridges before coming to them.
- Is secretive; seclusive; shut in; not inclined to speak unless spoken to.
- Is slow in movement; deliberative or perhaps indecisive; moods frequent and constant.
- Often represents himself at a disadvantage; modest and unassuming.
According to buzzle.com, Melancholics are “severely emotional and sensitive”, so there you go. Everything that other people felt, I felt it ten times even more in intensity. Other people felt sad over failing a test, I was pulverized to bits. I am an internal amplifier, and an enclosed one at that, because whatever ordeal that I go through, I am forced to relive it over and over again involuntarily. It was like being yelled at by my brain that, “You brought this upon yourself so now you have to think about it for the next 300 hours.” And so a single bad thought was able to ruin my day by making me think and ponder about it, about what I could’ve done instead, what would’ve happened if I’d chosen an alternate path, made a different decision, how other people thought of me in that moment, how I looked like to other people, the list is endless.
I also feel a lot when it comes to other things, everything in fact, and not only in the face of predicaments. For me, my life is a giant tale which I am constantly striving to make perfect, and everyone in my life plays their respective roles in my tale as important characters. And it is the darnedest thing when I constantly spend my time thinking about these characters in my story and my own role in it, and then I get sad when I realise that this whole big “my life is a story that I’m telling” process and concept isn’t exactly applicable to everyone because then I wouldn’t be a character in someone else’s story and that makes me feel melancholy. I know this sounds selfish and narcissistic, but is it really that bad to want to be a character in someone else’s story, even if it’s just a minor character? I feel very strongly about the characters in my story, without them, my story wouldn’t be complete, and I just want others to feel the significance of my presence as I do towards theirs. There, that sounds better in simpler words.
Besides being an amplifier, I also work great as a thermometer, both physically and mentally but I’ll leave the former out. My views and the ways I act varies in accordance to my surroundings and the people I mix with, and they vary very quickly, the way sensitive thermometers work. This was worst when I was younger and thankfully it’s getting better now, although this also enclosed thermometer prevents me from forgetting about others’ opinions when I try to form my own. For instance, I once visited Best Coast’s page on Last.fm and saw in the comment box that many commented that their new album was terrible so I downloaded their new album and gave it a listen and tried to form my own opinion, to decide whether it was good or bad, and found that I couldn’t. My opinion since then has been null and void.
So this is it. My post for the third day of my WordPress Mid-Life Crisis Week. I don’t even know what post this is, or if it’s even relevant to its title but alas I don’t think I can start a different post. This post sounded a lot grander in my head last night but nope. So I’m just going to say goodbye and hope no one finds this as bad as I do. Okay bye bye BYE