“Your life is great, Verlais. What are you being all mopey for?”
I get asked that a lot. And really, everyone who says that is right.100% correct. Anyone’s life could be made better, but I have a roof over my head, food on the table, my own personal vehicle, a little bit of money in the bank for frivolous things and a job that isn’t too demanding. So why can’t I get out of bed in the morning? Why is there always a fog of sadness floating around me?
Us Vrekans aren’t very good at talking about mental health. My parents weren’t too bad, heck, they have suggested I talk to someone a few times, but I’ve always felt a stigma. No, not a stigma. A feeling of pointlessness, that my problems should be dealt with myself. I don’t have real problems. I just get in my own way. And I don’t like talking to people any more.
I used to though. I liked talking about things I enjoy, things I do. No one else really seems to listen though. They want to talk about their stuff. So I fall back and listen. That is fine. I like to listen. These days, that is all I do though. I try to drag conversations back into domains I understand, but it rarely works. I have come to the belief that me trying to talk about myself is me being too egotistical. Too much thinking about myself.
Being egotistical is almost preferable in Vrekan society. We value those who put themselves first. While we run around praising selfless deeds, it’s the selfish who have all the power. It’s the selfish and the powerful who we all deep down want to emulate.
That’s always disgusted me. I’ve always tried to be selfless. It’s backfired on me though. I see everything I do for myself and twist it into something else. I am egotistical. I am full of myself. So I end up loathing myself. A bit of a paradox, really.
I’m not saying that I am a selfish person. I really am not. I’ve seen and done things for so many others. I’ve nearly sacrificed my very existence to save my friends and my home. I bloody fought the Deitic of Deitics and lived to tell the tale.
Not that anyone really wants to hear my tale.
That is probably why I am like this now. A basic job. A good job but a basic one. People need me to do my job so they can do theirs. I do my best not to mess things up. Others mess up and I remain quiet in my corner, trying to work out how to fix things. Generally it is the higher ups making a mess, then a lower down person trying to maintain things and making a mistake and then they get the blame. It generally involves me working overtime or taking money out of my salary to solve problems. When I mess things up, I work until the problem is fixed. But I can’t fix everything. And there are a lot of things out of my reach.
It’s never enough.
It will never be enough.
Seems pointless really. Especially since now I know what’s out there. Past my job, my home, my life.
I want to get out of here but there’s no way for me to do that. I don’t really have anything I can do or sell or market. I’m not particularly good at anything. I’ve always considered myself a jack of all trades but that’s worthless when most would rather pay a master of one trade.
I mean, for heaven’s sake, I work for the Myst. That’s a good job. I even get to slack off occasionally and I get decent holiday time and things like that. Maybe I’m being selfish wanting more than this, wanting to get out of here.
I so desperately want to get out of here. I’ll admit, I’ve been feeling depressed. Suicidal. Getting out of here could mean getting out of life. I wouldn’t mind that too much. It would be quiet. Then there would be nothing.
I can’t though.
People need me.
If I don’t do my job, then no one else can do their jobs. Things would go wrong. Problems would flare up. And no one would be able to fix them apart from me.
Well, someone could. What I do isn’t some dark magic. But it would cause a lot of unnecessary stress. It would make others sad. It would just confirm what I already believe – that I am a bad, selfish person.
So here I am, staying alive. Not for me, but for everyone else.